Book 2: Lint! The Story of Inigo

by Phenoca

In which the author attempts to explain why Pedro from /lint/2005/05/09/05092005/ ended-up in a goblin mariachi band...

~1~

There are a million ways to commence with my second book, yet when I attempt to begin in a child-friendly manner then I get carried-off on a tangent, and when I attempt to begin in a parent-friendly manner (i.e. my child should read this book because the author sounds child-friendly) then I get into moral conflicts. So I'll just write down what is essential and then edit this later if it needs changing.

Inigo the goblin is trapped within a human prison because he shot at John's dog. The dog is also in prison, because there aren't actually any prisoners in this jail except Inigo. The dog's owner is in the prisoner, but he is there because he is talking with his Dad, the Elite class noble, Richard Doar. There is also an Elven Spy who is not a Spy, but the coincidentally-exiled Prince Fangline, whom has managed to convince most people that he is not a Spy (he isn't). On the other hand, everyone is convinced that Inigo is a Spy of some sort, or... Well the thing is that he shot an arrow through John's dog, and generally this is not acceptable behaviour. Inigo realizes this and is hoping that the dog will recover. He feels that his terms of prison will be based upon how the dog reacts to him once it does recover.

The excuse for shooting at a dog is that Inigo was forced to do so by another goblin. Because Inigo is also suspected to be a Spy by the goblin people, who think that he is a Spy for the goblin resistance. The resistance is several (or more) goblins seeking independence from the brutality of current goblin leadership (i.e. Chieftain Fear). Inigo was actually in the wrong place at the wrong time, which is how he became a suspect. He is also a pacifist, and since the resistance is connected with pacifism (they never fight anyone, unlike the stereotypical goblin) then his Raid Leader told him to shoot the dog under the implicit threat that if he didn't commit violence then he was obviously a Spy for the goblin resistance. Inigo isn't a Spy, so he shot at the dog – but not before hesitating. A hesitation which allowed the dog time to detect the goblin raiding party and warn the humans. A hesitation that saved the humans, as well as the life of their captive/ambassador, Prince Fangline of Schloeffelonia. This series is actually about Prince Fangline, yet in order to understand his character development we must first understand his setting. This book is about goblins. And how they affect the character development of Prince Fangline.

Now unfortunately, the goblin raid was intended to infiltrate the city of Rascaline (where everyone is now) by climbing over the city walls like ninjas and then attempting to locate the goblin rebels which are known to be within the city.

Unfortunately, the goblin raiding party all died – except for Inigo and a few survivors. Again, this is because Inigo hesitated before shooting the dog and saving the lives of some people who had been about to enter the city. But the goblin raiding party that had been about to infiltrate the city was subsequently discovered and trodden-upon by war-horses. This would not have been a problem except that the people on the horses were dismayed by the more rude goblins' behaviour of burning-down the city's wooden walls (it has stone gates but a double wooden log palisades with pointy ends which can still be climbed-over by determined goblins). Yet the city caught fire (temporarily) and the goblins got in trouble and then the people on the horses – the Rascaline Militia – got the horses to step on the goblins and then they killed them by slashing/poking them with swords. Rascaline Militia keeps sharp swords. They are meant for killing, as well as for practicing swordsmanship which is for getting better at killing – as well as for self-defense. In Rascaline – there is a Master of Self-Defence. I'll reveal more about him later once I find out where he is – since all I know now is that he is some Elven swordsmaster who is known (by Elves) to be reclusive yet perhaps is better known in Rascaline, where pointy Elf-ears are often noticed (and talked about).

"Why is the goblin being kept in the cell? Is that were you were going to put me?" asked Prince Fangline who was downstairs. He had posed the question to John Doar yet John's father responded:

"That's irrelevant."

"Why?" asked Prince Fangline.

~2~

"And why should I let you?" asked Richard Doar.

"Well..." Inigo tried to explain why he would rather be set free than kept behind bars.

"You're lucky to be alive, and you'll stay alive longer if you tell me what you've been holding back," Richard Doar explained (in what he thought was a reasonable tone). Inigo thought for a moment…

"Is this about the Resistance members living in Rascaline?" Inigo asked Richard. John took at deep breath (he was supposed to be learning how to interrogate – or perhaps his father wanted to show off something by interrogating Inigo) and Fangline perked an ear (literally – the ear just unbent and became rigid against the side of his head, which would have been less noticeable if the other ear had moved as well).

"I SAID – 'is it?'" Richard repeated himself. One more having to repeat himself and this goblin was going on an involuntary fast (water-only). Inigo shook himself and looked away from Fangline.

"Ah! Yes I'll bet you are very interested in the Resistance," again with the Elf-ear perk from Fangline, "… But I'm not willing to tell you stuff only because my life is at stake, because I'd rather be talking to someone who isn't planning to kill me no matter what I say. I think that removing the death threats would increase the honesty with which I can speak to you," Inigo expressed.

"I won't kill you… Nor my town-militia. So get down to what I asked little goblin." Richard answered, which was satisfactory to everyone inside the room.

"Yes," said Inigo.

"What?" interrupted Fangline.

"Yes I've been holding back information about the Resistance – because it's the whole reason that I got into trouble for the first time! Oh arrowless-archers I hate the Resistance," emphasized Inigo, though his heart wasn't in it. "It all started with a short guy who was friends with the guard coming to talk to one of the stonemasons, telling him that the guards knew about their plot to take over the aqueducts. They're the anti-flood waterways that protect our tunnels, and the short guy was blaming the Resistance for planning to flood all of the lower tunnels. I am starting to doubt that they even were – but anyways this stonemason was like, followed by the guards for the rest of the day probably and then I – innocent me – happened to tell my friend and they totally thought I was a Resistance member and I got recruited to the guard and told to shoot some guy but the guard grabbed my bow and he killed a mage and I should have ran with the Resistance people but,"

"What?" asked Richard in disbelief.

"Yeah, he totally killed him, and then guess who got in trouble? So now there's goblins inside Rascaline and I was trying to distract your men so we could sneak in from the south gate."

Richard's eyes widened, and he jumped like a cat that hears a mouse squeak from a tails-length behind it. Richard zoomed out the door and zipped down the stairs, bounced off the railing and pummelled through the open door to the building. Fangline began to laugh, as John cast furtive looks about room (retracing with his eyes the path that his father had run).

"You scared him!" exclaimed Fangline. "Good story – and you spoke at the right pace such that it sounded entirely believable," he continued. Inigo decided to hold onto his knees and rock himself forth and back, worrying that Richard would go back on his word and kill him once he failed to find the Resistance members – who were supposed to still be hiding out in Rascaline. But that's more to do with Erdős' brother's friend than with anyone else. Since Erdős' brother's friend knew exactly where the members of the Resistance were hiding (and sorry if Inigo's spiel made no sense whatsoever, because I'm still piecing together the pieces inside of my head, and there's a lot of thinking involved when it comes to people blaming each other for things that they didn't do. The fact that a goblin mage died is an entirely different sub-plot altogether, and… I have to decide what sorts of magic mages can actually cast).

"Well..!" Began Richard, about to ask another prying question, yet trailing his word into silence as he pondered upon what he could actually ask the goblin in order to understand what exactly the wall of information had included. Then Fangline started laughing. Juan was confused as to why – but then the funny – the real funny part was when Inigo and Richard both swerved their forward-directions to face Fangline and – at the SAME time – beseeched him to stop laughing with:

"It's not funny!" in almost the exact same tone of voice.

Juan almost let out his own laugh – since Richard and the goblin were like opposites in size, aggressive/retreatedness, and in authority. So then Fangline retorted:

"Heh, but – heh – you were just mining the questions out of him and now he's put you off-balance when you were like keeping him," Fangline pointed at Inigo, "off-balance with your questions!"

"I'm trying to decide if he's telling the truth or not," retorted Richard, casting a glare that said, 'get out of here'. "Goblin, let me get this straight: You murdered another goblin with floodwater, but then escaped here because you're a member of a goblin resistance – presumably bent on either destroying the goblin mages, or on breaking the Treaty of Versailles? Am I right?" Richard asked. Inigo just answered with a stony, blank look.

"That isn't what he said," spoke Fangline softly.

"I think he mentioned something about a stonemason in the Resistance, and that he was a suspected Resistance member because he had talked with the stonemason," rationalized Juan, "but that makes sense where a stone worker would flood an aqueduct," (note: aqueducts are artificial rivers held in midair... They allow your cities to get a larger population in Sid Meiers' game, Civilization, and were originally invented by Dwarves).

"And then killed a magic-user, so he is indeed a member of the goblin Resistance!" exclaimed Richard, bending down to peer less sternly at Inigo's face from Inigo's sitting-height. "Tell us, where are the Resistance attacking next? Was the flooding successful? Which leaders are being targeted and what are your long-term goals?"

"I don't know," said Inigo looking down at the floor and feeling that his personal space was quite impregnated/disrupted by Richard's intense questioning as well as the fact that he had never been a member – or even known anyone – who was actually probably a Resistance member. "We were supposed to be looking for Resistance members but you killed the search party... Jerk," said Inigo, looking up at Richard's face. Juan gasped. Richard just replied,

"Well they deserved it."

Fangline waited for Richard to do something bad to Inigo for saying that. But instead, Richard just ended the questioning-session, and gestured to Juan.

"What brings you to here? Are you Regnar's brother?"

Just then, a militia with a decaying log on his head (as oppose to a proper helmet) entered from the stairwell.

"I apologize for my intrusion," pronounced Juan. "I was curious to see the prisoner," he said, announcing his intention for arriving.

Before Richard could formulate a response, the militia asked, "Hey Sir, do you want him in a cell?" and, like Juan, tilted his eyes meaningfully towards Inigo.

Richard deliberated, and spoke, "No that won't be necessary," and then for the goblin's benefit added, "for tonight."

Juan hastily left the room while the two men were speaking. He had been sent by Erdős to monitor Inigo, and try to determine the reason for Inigo's presence, and to check on Inigo's mindset. This was because Erdős possessed a keen interest in goblin subculture as well as their individual reactions to being immersed in human culture. Unlike Richard's objectives, there was nothing mysterious about Juan's presence at the room where Inigo was being held, which the log-helmeted militia announced humorously was only the 'bail' room where 'good' prisoners were exposited to civilization and expounded into the custody of a (rigorously legally-documented) 'bailer', who signed all of the forms for their release (which were also signed by the prisoner, the log-helmeted militia, and sometimes the legal-defendant (which Elves would call a lawyer)). So Inigo was actually in Rascaline's luxury-suite jail cells. There were no rodents, no dripping water, no mold, no stains, no cobwebs, no flies, and no – and I admit these can sometimes be the most disastrous to one's morale (not to be confused with moral) – no howling dissertations from the less fortunate prisoners, who may be bored, tired, hungry, injured, or... Bored. Imagine boredom. Now imagine it a thousand times worse. Now imagine that you are bored for hours. Every hour, the intensity of your boredom doubles, until you do not even want to move for saturation of melancholy. Now imagine that the degree of boredom which you feel accumulates to such a degree that you fall unconscious. This is called sleeping in jail... And the next day, your boredom begins anew, yet the emotional state of boredom is a layer which builds upon the previous day's utmost level of boredom. This is an oversimplistic description of jail boredom, not to be confused with the fleeting moments of passing everyday-boredom of children. This is actually... Jail-Boredom. And Rascaline doctors have yet to find a cure for it.

Luckily, Inigo was in the guests/bail suite. It was epicly lucky for Inigo, because he even had a window (it would not have been a jail without the iron-barred windows, one of Richard's friends (an upper-class Elite) had always said). So Inigo felt his heart plummet into his throat, which would have been quite odd if he had said this to the psychiatrist because the psychiatrist would have assumed that for the heart to enter one's throat then the heart would have had to rise up! So the psychiatrist would have been very confused, but Inigo would have said, "but I feel worse if my heart is in my throat, so it has to be going downward."

His heart leapt (down) into his throat because Inigo had the sudden fear of not being in the luxury-suite guests/bail cells, while still being in jail. And since he was not a member of the militia, and not a non-prisoner visitor (like in Monopoly where it says 'visitors only'), then it would mean... Being in the dank, stinky, underground (possibly moldy & ratty & who-knows) cells of... The Rascaline jail cells (not to be confused with the Rascaline sewers, which can be entered and exited with similar exertation of will... I think I've talked enough about jails now.

So Juan left and Richard left and the militia man shrugged, and went to his desk on the main floor. Fangline left, and John (if he was still there) left, and Inigo... Well he remained staring at the dog.

~3~

"Well done on bar 74. Now I believe you wanted to..?" trailed Erdős after his compliment to Juan's performance on the Horn. Juan brought his kneees together and curled his legs towards his chest, jostling his instrument upwards, so that the mouthpiece hung over his left eyebrow like a leaf on the branch of a weeping willow that hangs beside a park bench, with the leaves sometimes blowing gently across the sitter's face. He breathed deeply,

"The goblin is in the bail room, but all of his 'raiding party' have," Juan paused, "either died," he tried saying it like it was a joke, "or ran off." Then anticipating Erdős' next question, he preemptively answered after a shallow breath, "And, th-the guy's name is Inigo and, he – I think he's with the party because they were suspicious of like him being a rebel so they got him to like help chase down these rebels that are supposedly here," Juan spoke, with many hesitations when trying to explain in a comprehensive yet concise manner to his teacher.

"Wait – rebel what?" asked Erdős, before Juan continued his halting relay of information. Juan's mouth hung open, and then he closed it.

"The guy, he... Is not really a rebel, but like Rebels as in – I don't know – Not a not Rebel and so," Juan grinned, "he is like, suspected of being a rebel because he was talking with this other Rebel and now, he's like, well he was like supposed to not help people escape (or something) and then like somebody DIED and now he's in trouble, and so" Juan spoke rapidly, "they went including him on the mission to catch the actual Rebels who apparently like - are in Rascaline!" Exclaimed Juan, making his instrument leap downwards into his lap, "if you believe me," he concluded with a head nod and double eyebrow-lift. Erdős scratched the back of his head and leaned back in his seat to the position that he had originally been sitting in when Juan had been performing on his instrument. Then Erdős raised his eyebrows also and said,

"And what do you recommend we do?" with a lifted hand that looked as though it were holding an invisible tin can. Juan laughed.

~4~

The next day, at around noon, Inigo had a visitor. The visitor said to wait until the next day, when there would be a bail sighting... But that Inigo had to agree to work hard, without influence from goblin peers, who would not be present unless he wanted to go back to his hometown. The dog was properly treated from a broken rib, and then the dog was taken to the ground level entrance-floor of the building/jail where there was free food for the dog. Inigo got to eat stale bread and salted biscuits and fresh salami. The dog acted cordially to Inigo, but could not climb the stairs after it had been carried down by a care-handed veterinarian and one guard. Inigo did not speak very much that day... And wasted one of the biscuits by squeezing it so many times that it cracked and crumbled between his thumb and index finger. But Inigo did not experience true boredom. Just the passing boredom that affects us all.

The day after that, Inigo was bailed. In fact, the militia said that he was free to go as long as he stayed a distance of 10 meters away from any potential weapons, not including eating utensils, but not like swords, which some people ate apples and kebab with. In fact – have you ever tried apple kebab?

Let us flashback to the time at which Inigo was arrested. That day, during Juan's music practice, his instructor Erdős asked,

"There's been something on my mind lately... That I've been wondering if you could answer," Erdős paused with a crease in his forehead caused by worry as well as age. "Do you know – this goblin – why was he not killed? That is, why was he brought into Rascaline because it interests me that goblins can show mercy – or that's what Jackie told me," finished Erdős, with a questioning brow raised towards his pupil who answered:

Juan began with a laugh, "I was actually there at the fight, umm - I can explain it to you. There was this dog of the son of Richard – I mean Mr. Doar – and," said Juan, rearranging his thoughts, "so John's dog scented the goblins, so they killed it? But," hesitated Juan, with a question to his voice as though asking whether the dog had been really killed, "The goblin who was captured," he began to answer his own question, "his name is Inigo. He actually was the one who both shot and then tried to save the dog

so," gesturing with his hands and widening eyes that the dog was not dead, "cuz he like tried to bandage it up (although I don't know if the dog appreciated)! Anyways," Juan posed, thinking back to the dog's ignorance to the fact that Inigo had saved its life while it had been unconscious, "Right now he's in prison because they don't really want to kill him, and I don't think they should because – Well he speaks English," (the goblin), "and... Well they kinda want to interrogate him."

"The dog saved someone's life?" asked Erdős.

"No! No, No!" replied Juan with an excalamation.

"The dog scented-out a raid of goblins who are like, looking for a missing goblin. But then when they were going to attack Rascaline with fire the dog was like – No way! You can't hide in this grass! And the goblins were like – not if you're dead! So the dog died – except he didn't bleed much cuz the goblin who shot him was feeling sorry and tried to stop the dog's wounds with his own clothes, and then when the militia were gonna chase the goblins to kill them the militia was like – Why's this dog wearing clothes?" Juan explained concisely. "Ok well – not like THAT, but I mean the militia didn't want to kill the goblin because,"

"Oh I see!" Interrupted Erdős. "So the goblin saved the day when he rescued this dog!" Erdős mind was working full-speed now, "But do the militia know that it was the same goblin who shot this dog, and... Don't dogs get killed in the streets every day? And why on Earth boy were you standing beside a raiding group of goblins?" Erdős tentatively raised his fingers as though to touch Juan, "Don't tell me something happened!" he beseeched, with agony/sympathy being hidden by the widened eyes (you can see agony when people's cheeks squish their eyes and they start to cry, but I think that the sympathy counteracted the cheek movement so that Erdős looked like he was sympathetic towards whatever happened between Juan and the goblins (a kidnapping?) and possibly ready to be agonizingly sad over what Juan was about to say). (Maybe the facial expression is "worried".)

So Juan says, "Aha! Yeah, right!"

That day, Juan received a mission from his master. A mission that was of the utmost importance, because... If it were not for this task... Then probably... Juan would have never ended up receiving his pet... Ah – look in the online comic already! You're missing out. Juan is a cool guy! You should read the comic already! Otherwise, all foreshadowing is just... Well – maybe if you read the comic... What I mean is that the comic makes absolutely no sense whatsoever because Juan's pet is a talking octopus, and the entire point of this story is to clearly explicate why... Juan... Adopts a talking pet-octopus.

~5~

A week passed, during which Inigo was relocated to the basement, in an individual not-so-nice cell. It was dark, and it was lonely, and the people around him were indifferent, and the previous cell's occupant had had problems coping with his solitude. The previous occupant's despair was affecting Inigo. And had been driving him into a state of madness all week.

Upstairs in the bail chamber (where the dog had slept until it had recovered), Erdős inquired of a militia,

"Excuse me, sir."

"Y-yes" asked the guard, turning around and avoiding saying an informal 'yeah' because he had just been addressed 'sir'.

"Do you know," said Erdős making eye-contact, "the whereabouts of a goblin who is named Inigo?"

"He's sitting downstairs."

"Would you – well you see, I am interested in this... What I'm trying to say is that I would like him brought here in order that I may speak with him, or I can come downstairs?" offered Erdős. Moments later, they met in the upstairs room. Inigo was politely escorted into the same cell which the wounded dog had previously vacated – nearly healing of its wounds instantly!

"Hey – you're Inigo, and," Erdős paused to wipe his left eyebrow with his hand. Inigo remained silent, and the guard glanced at the two of them before de-escalating downstairs. Erdős opened his mouth again:

"Ahhhhhhhhh... Do you want to work for me? Because I have this awesome plan that your – I mean that my... Close friend devised, where it – for one – gets you out of this rather... Loathsome palace of a house, and for two – will allow me to study goblins!" finished Erdős in a hushed and yet excited voice. Inigo lifted his head and a color came into his cheeks.

"You want me," began Inigo – but was interrupted,

"This is absolutely a golden opportunity and I will have your carriage ready for you the moment you set foot... The moment after the moment where I finish the paperwork with the gentleman downstairs, so that you can set foot outside!" presented Erdős with a beaming smile. Inigo closely watched how the wrinkles in Erdős face jiggled to fit the man's broad smile. Then the goblin nodded his head very rapidly, as though he were excited. Inwardly though, Inigo did not trust the salesman-mathematician-musician-composer-teacher/goblin-archaeologist. Did I say mathematician? I meant the namesake (Google 'Erdős – he's a famous mathematician)... And when I said archaeologist I meant Personwhostudiescoolstuff!

"Splendid," spoke Erdős, pivoting on his heals and lowering his tone and voice-speed half an octave (from rapidissimo to larrrrgo) as the thought of Paperwork loomed ahead in his mind. Downstairs, Inigo heard the man addressing the guard.

"Sir! I have been notified that I am the legally entitled person... For the bail?" Trailed Erdős. "Custodian?"

"Rascal-to-Rascaline Intermediary," the guard provided.

"That's the ticket!" said Erdős... Wait... Do I really want him to talk like that? Erdős doesn't get excited when he's talking to guards. So what he said was, "Is that what I'm called?"

"Bahuah-HAHAHA! I was kidding!" snortled the guard. "I don't know the name, just sign here, and this is a pen," said the guard, holding-up a pen.

It was a pencil.

~6~

At the house... We have some characters to introduce but not a lot of plot-development. I'm going to have to start stalling for ideas somewhere, and I know exactly what plot-element I am going to stall with... So here comes our temporary-character (watch me accidentally make him save the world somewhere down the road). Let's see... Is there anyone from Lint who this can... OMG YERSD!

Herrick paused, then resumed a normal standing-up stance. Then he balled his left hand into a fist and held it up to his ear as though listening to something in his hands. Unclenching his fist, he shook his hand several times near his ear, but nothing fell-out. Then he leant to his right, lifted his left heel, and instantly pirouetted clockwise to thrust his hand out at some unseen adversary to his rear. His hand froze as it encountered nothingness. Herrick paused once again and dropped his gaze to the floor. Keeping his right hand poised in the air, he scratched his moustache with his left thumb and index-finger. Then he leapt into the air with his hands pinning his tucked shirt against his belt... This was WONDERFUL!

Then he started clapping with one hand, as though grabbing onto the rope of a church bell and then pulling it towards him. Very rapidly, in a nonsensical motion. Suddenly he drew his sword into his other hand and leapt forwards in a one-handed thrust downwards, stopping his blade when its edge was parallel to the floor. Yes, the technique could work in real combat... But only with a secondary weapon. No wait – the counter was with the offhand arm not being used to hold the sword, but that would mean exposing his undefended side to the enemy! There would be no guard against a stab... Would this counter work against sideward thrusts or only downward strokes? Could he do a backhanded grab? Would he have the strength? Herrick continued clapping with one hand. Herrick stomped his right foot on a pedal which caused a wooden "clonk" and a chopstick to fly upward. The chopstick was as thick as a lightbulb so he grabbed it in his clapping hand, as though the clapping had been meant for this chopstick. Then he raised his other hand to his beard and posed this question aloud:

"What about..."

"What about what?" asked the mouse.

"I never heard the rest – he left afterwards!" replied the first mouse.

~7~

As Inigo left the jail, there was a black carriage parked. The roads were muddy and he wished that he could have that he did not have to follow Erdős all of the way to the outskirts of the city. But then Erdős commented:

"It could be large enough for two," and gestured towards the passenger seat at the top of the carriage. Inigo could not detect whether anyone was inside and decided that the occupants were harmless. Then he averted his gaze, and was surprised to see Erdős' feet disappear! He looked up and glimpsed Erdős clambering up into the carriage! Then Erdős opened the door wider and looked down at Inigo, smiling:

"Get in! This side's open," and opened the door opposite of the carriage. Scared that the doors might eat him Inigo pondered the carriage, and looked back towards the door of the jail where the guard at the desk had his head down looking at the desk (or something on it), then he heard

"Rotten tomato!" and saw a scary man looking at him from down the street. He quickly scurried around the carriage and hopped-in before the other pedestrians cave him further attention. Then Erdős calmly stepped from the passenger-seat to join the driver of the carriage's solo horse. Showing everyone that he was not afraid of the goblin... And they drove off (the driver being quite frightened, yet trying hard not to show it).

The guard... At the desk... He got in trouble after. And speaking of after... Let's

skip the two minutes of Inigo sitting glumly silent in the carriage! He still did not fully understand how he had been released from jail.

"Yah!" yelled the driver and Inigo arose from his reverie of feeling like he was

still in jail, to feeling that the carriage was about to crash into something. There was no crash, just a sudden acceleration, and change in the feel of the road. Inigo feared that they were about to be pulled over by the militia and that he would be re-arrested! But there was no cause for worry. All that happened was that the road had become narrower and less muddy. Before Inigo could ponder that, Erdős looked backwards and flashed him a smile. Inigo did not trust the man an inch... And so he stared at the musician's back for the rest of the six minute trip to Erdős' home. (It was an eighteen minute walk, during which countless pedestrians would have no doubt affronted Inigo for being a goblin.)

Meanwhile... Herrick was practicing blocks and counters. He needed an opponent... He needed to find his messenger boy... He needed... To test the theory behind the new disarmament that the militia had mentioned. The captain should have let that goblin live, for performing such a spontaneous block to the militia that injured it. But no one could pardon a goblin for nearly defeating a militia, and so the goblin had died and the captain had informed Herrick on how to find the militia who had saw the 2-second battle. It was 2-seconds of awesome, and Herrick was now reinventing the move... Thrust undefended side of body forward, intercept pivot of weapon with open palm, grab enemy's hand, and then... "ANDREW!" yelled Herrick, shouting for his messenger boy while fingering his wood chopstick. He hoped that the boy's hand would be large enough, and tapped his foot while staring at the floor again. Will Andrew appear before Herrick begins one-handed clapping invisible chopsticks and jumping and pirouetting? Will Herrick fulfill his dream to becoming an interpretive dancer? NEXT – in... A chapter which is possibly the next one! Like – if you think about it, a swordsman practicing without a sword looks kind of like interpretive dance, right? So Herrick is either a really eloquent swordfighter, or a really confused dancer.

Inigo looked at Erdős opening the carriage door. Then Inigo smiled, quickly hid the smile, and left the carriage. The driver sighed in relief as his horse snorted and pawed the ground. "Hooved" the ground... I wish I knew why the horse did that, but we probably won't see him again as he's not a major character. The carriage was actually borrowed from Erdős' friend! Actually here's the thing, is he borrowed it without asking! I'd rather not get into the complications of Erdős having rich friends... But let's say if he had asked then Erdős would have been able to use the carriage anyways, but then he would have been pried with questions, so Erdős gave the carriage driver a hearty monetary tip, before walking off with the goblin.

"Good grief!" Erdős exclaimed, "we need to cover those ears of yours or you'll look like an Elf!" he chastised, examining Inigo's ears while ignoring the fact that people had stared at Inigo because his skin was entirely green (like a goblin).

I've got to come up with more of these stunningly-creative similes. Inigo's skin is "like a goblin".

~8~

Erdős led Inigo into the house. It was in a part of Rascaline where the houses were very large. Erdős even saw a second story on the house, which meant that the house had stairs. Inigo felt rather eager to see the inside of the house, but then guilty for wanting to enter a human shelter – even if it was not to do anything to its occupants, so he stepped towards the house to follow Erdős. But Erdős stopped in his tracks and whistled a warning, looking intently towards the sky. Inigo, worried that he had done something, immediately hunched his shoulders to prepare for a reprimand or form of punishment. But Erdős was only whistling intently at the sky! For he was thinking, "Ok," a pause to remember the goblin's namesake, "Inigo, if you wait inside this entrance I'll be right back! Remember that if you leave without me, then you'll probably stay in a small room for a very long time if you get caught trying to leave Rascaline! Let's stay here a while where I can ensure you have food to eat, and then in that time, maybe convince you not to escape! Aha!" And closed the door behind Inigo who had been led by the shoulder into the house.

Erdős paused at the entrance, rubbing his right foot on the rug before kicking-off both shoes in a very childlike fashion (though Inigo would not have known that adults were fussy about wearing shoes inside of houses, because goblins never wore shoes). Erdős turned to Inigo with his face being lit by his inner excitement which was just as bright as the light of the sun outdoors. "Hang on one second!" And the elderly musician trotted into the shadows of the wooden abode, Inigo straining to catch glimpse of the fabled human invention, "stairs" (sloped goblin tunnels aren't the exact awesome level as a flight of real wooden stairs).

Moments later, Erdős returned, then he frowned, and hurried back downstairs, bringing up a second object which he laid behind the first. Then he got the first object and rubbed it hard on his hand. He held his hand over the second object and rubbed and rubbed the first object – a pumice rock – over his hand. Then the second object – which was a porcelain plate – contained whatever he had rubbed his hand over. This is a goblin ritual which signifies the willingness of the person who offers his skin onto the plate to co-operate with the person he gives his skin to. It's only a little bit of skin – like when you rub your hands together real fast and dust comes off – that's actually tiny pieces of skin! Because your skin sheds like a snake, except much much slower and not like in shells. So like, instead of a snail shell or a giant old snake skin, human skin just flakes off in tiny pieces, just like goblin skin, which is why this ritual is like offering someone your skin. Thus Inigo knew that Erdős was willing to co-operate with him, so he took the plate and poured the skin over his head in acceptance of the tiny greeting ritual, usually reserved for the first-time meeting between two higher-ranking members of a tribe or even two tribes. However, as you might have guessed, it's not often that humans do goblin rituals – or that it's not even often to see a human learning goblin rituals! So Inigo should have caught-on that Erdős was doing something weird. I suppose his suspicions were gone since Erdős had taken him away from the jail! So he met Erdős and they shortly discussed many things which at the time seemed important – how would Inigo keep clean, where to sleep, what he liked to eat, whether he would run away or was allowed to go outside; if he would do cleaning chores or NOT TOUCH the valuable instruments that Erdős had and that goblins WOULD NOT be able to sell as stolen instruments because Erdős knew everyone who buys instruments! Inigo doubted the latter, but caught-on that he wasn't supposed to steal stuff and then run out the door in the middle of the night, perhaps with stolen supplies and a pillow... – No! He would not run! Not just yet.

Then Inigo who was very confused about the house, but grateful that he hadn't been hit or shouted at yet – or even asked to wipe his feet on the rug until much later when Erdős had noticed the city mud tracked over the floor – and not even locked to a wall or anything racist like that. Inigo who was very confused decided to agree with Erdős, and not run away that night. Or the night after. Or the night after that. But perhaps on the night after that he would escape from Rascaline and run back to his tribe... After finding something to prove that he had not deserted the raiding group and ran away from his own raid group. That would be worse than walking back into the jail cell.

~9~

"Get up it's morning!" Shouted an elderly voice. Inigo sat up and poked his nose into the knuckles of another goblin who had been hovering over him. Thinking it a dream, he went back to sleep, when he heard another voice, far away, but even louder than the first!

"Pedro you – AUUUUGH! PEDRO !" shouted Erdős, waking up the entire city of Rascaline. Inigo sat up again and stared at Erdős, wondering if humans had always shouted so loudly in all of his dreams. Then again, he had never dreamed about – Erdős crossed the room towards the other goblin – he had never dreamed about the interior of a human house (or at least not the wooden one that he had fallen asleep in). Raising his finger in a musical gesture Erdős opened his mouth and made the motion for, "stop playing the music note with a very sharp stop" and quivered his wrist (like a coffee addict) while continuing in a hushed and excruciated antagonized voice, "I told you to wait!" Erdős looked down at Inigo, "You are off! You are off!" The dream-goblin shied away from the upset Erdős, who had resumed his hand-gestures with both hands. "I-I tol – I told – I mean what do you not have ears? Da Capo; Da Capo..." Erdős took a deep breath as the green goblin turned to look at Inigo's reaction to the whole scene. Inigo suddenly wondered – no – realized, that he probably was not dreaming, which would mean that something... Well basically that he had been woken up by another goblin, who was in Erdős' home, but who had not killed Erdős so probably knew Erdős as evidenced by the part where the goblin had not tried to kill Erdős for being a human who had shouted at the goblin – ah – whose name was probably "AUGH PEDRO", or "Pedro Augh".

Erdős looked down at Inigo and stamped his foot in the direction of Pedro. As he pointed his thumb with a jab in the direction of Pedro he said to Inigo: "This is Pedro, he is an idiot. And he is a goblin. Not because he is an idiot but I mean he is an idiot who is also a goblin and is sometimes not an idiot." Trying to correct his racism towards goblins being all idiots, Erdős continued, "And today he is an idiot." Lowering his frown into a sincere expression, which Inigo could not discern in the dark he continued, "We had plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanned to reveal Pedro's existence sooner, but I guess you caught on from the moonstone," goblins call Pumice a moonstone, "that I'd been living with a goblin." Pedro spoke:

"And you thought he would tell? Look at how scared he is of you! I doubt he would want to be caught," Inigo tried to place the goblin's accent. It could have just been Rascaline human accent.

"I don't care about your improvisations! I want to live adagio and you cannot pick-up! Since you looooove to interrupt why don't you explain yourself! I am practicing," Erdős pivoted towards the stairs, "Azeus!" it must have been the name of a musical composer. Pedro turned back to look at Inigo

"I assume you are 'up' now."

"Ah," Inigo kicked off his blanket, "Yes." Pedro rolled his eyes and plucked his hand in Erdős direction, making the muscal wave for, "put down your instruments" and whispered softly,

"HE is the idiot." in his Rascaline + Goblin accent. "I am going to apologize. Be right back," and walked off leaving Inigo bewildered and frightened.

~10

Pedro pondered the stupidity of the situation. If Inigo escaped to cause trouble in the city and the city militia came hunting... Then Erdős' home would be the first place to be searched. And likely, the militia would find him and his craftshop, likely mistakeing him for Inigo and punishing him for whatever Inigo had done (or been blamed for)!

Humans mistook one goblin for another – that was a valid assumption. And the city leaders had not executed – had not publically executed – anyone for a long while... Goblins would be the perfect scapegoat for a display of power by the Elite. Pedro thought back to his conversation with the condescending idealist Erdős, and wondered why he had been so tolerant of Erdős' riskful decisions. Maybe the decisions that Erdős was making were all going to be suddenly discovered by the wrong person - and all of Erdős' generosity and fresh-attitude towards the goblins would be swept aside by a person of importance, who would find it in his mind to punish Erdős and kill the goblins. But... Erdős doubted that (and humans were more civilized than goblin tribes – that is what Erdős had told Pedro). From Pedro's experience (of meeting Erdős as the only human in the world with whom he could safely talk to), the idea of a Rascaline full of Erdős music-teacher humans was not unfathomable. He shifted in his pensive position and decided to dismiss the matter and get back to his favourite occupation – carving violins. This one was far from finished, and he did not have the patience to envision the interior design that he wanted the end-product to have. So he switched to working on another violin that Erdős said sounded – in the customer's opinion – "too wooden."

"Shckkk! Shckkk!" went the thing on the wood. Pedro would have to, "Shckkk!" repolish the wood after with some, "Shckkk!" shiny finishing and "Shckkk!" laminate it with the sticky see-through stuff. "Shckkk! Shckkk!" He had scraped too fast. Now he had to even-out the wood that he had scraped-away with that slide, so that the violin would be curvy in the correct way. He imagined himself with half of his head going bald and hoped that his violin would look ok if he made both sides bald. That would make the sound more zesty, hoped Pedro (who imagined 'zesty' to be an antonym of 'dull', which was a synonym for 'wooden'). If only he'd had the strings mounted! But nooooo~! He'd needed to remove the bridge and strings in order to feel around the interior (with his thin L-shaped metal bar which fit inside the openings beneath the strings) to make sure that there was enough wood on the inside face of the violin to be skimming wood off of the outside face. He examined the thickness of the lower-right edge, and then planned how to make both sides thinner to make the sound less 'wooden'. Who called a violin "wooden" anyways? Wasn't he working with wood? Did people make violins out of something else? Erdős had previously said not. Therefore he must have meant that the violin sounded "hollow". Pedro sighed, and wondered who on the Plains of Woe would be uneducated enough to complain about a violin being wooden. Perhaps they were just testing Erdős' (and Pedro's) patience. Perhaps they were... But Pedro had to focus. Little did he know that violins were actually very expensive, because Erdős had never told him! Although Erdős was not the only human with whom Pedro had spoken (because Erdős did not know how to make violins – and nor did any goblins for that matter - it wasn't something that was invented). Violin making was a skill that was learned... Learnt from the best! Yet the best had never told him that violins costed so much money!

~11~

Herrick was talking to the weaponsmith. Bargaining with Mr. Pear the husband of the Blacksmith (it was incomprehensible to have a woman selling metal swords to men) for a set of staves for practice, because the old ones had broke. But Mr. Pear obtusely argued that blah blah blah, no staves. Mrs. Pear did not want to cut pieces of wood, etc. Herrick raised the price, and the man instantly agreed to supply wooden staves with the next shipment of weaponry. Herrick paid for the city militia's special armoury weaponry. It came from his huge salary. And Herrick had a huge salary because he taught swordsmanship. Herrick had to be careful to use his right arm when teaching swordsmanship. Because he was left-handed, and didn't want to have to rely on one arm. Herrick shook hands with the Blacksmith's husband, and departed with his sharpened shaving blade and a small smile. He looked forward to testing out his pirouette-thrust, to see if he could use his left hand to block the counterattack. It was cool to be able to use two swords at once. Someone once said that Herrick had one because two swords were better than one. But that someone was merely unskilled with his footwork. Herrick had to be encouraging and offer the young man compliments on his handwork – but when would he learn that he needed to practice his footwork! The lad needed motivation, but perhaps getting whacked by a practice sword would help to teach him to liven his feet. Herrick watched someone stumble on a wagon-rut in the street. The militia were not the only ones who needed footwork training. Herrick felt the percentage-moisture in the ground today through the soles of his shoes. The ground was hardened enough that the sound of his shoes was crisp and went "thunk", but the moisture was enough to prevent to scraping of his shoes with the dry crust of this wide dirt street. Herrick hoped that he could find to practice his own footwork after practice today, but he hoped that Dr. Perreppe (with a silent ending) would not come calling on him during his off-work hours. The man was inconsistent, and did not schedule appointments beforehand! It was hardly Herrick's responsibility that the militia lads had not idea how to block a strike to the ribs! The militia needed practice! Herrick needed practice! Herrick needed Time!

A random person saw Herrick's rapid busy pace and decided to hurry to his own destination. Herrick's ears noticed the change in the passerby's gait, but his mind did not register because he was not paying attention. He was instead planning his next lesson, and trying to refrain from spontaneously spinning and drawing his sword in the middle of the street. An urge with was remarkably easy to suppress, because he was a man completely against unnecessary displays of weaponry. A man bumped shoulders with a woman further down the street, and Herrick did not notice, because he was busy planning his morning schedule for the day after tomorrow. And hopefully Dr. Perreppe's (with a silent ending) patients would be healed (or at least able to walk) by Saturday. Author's Note: Herrick is not a brutal swordsman. He is a person of refined tastes. But the militia... Well young men can get aggressive when you give them a practice sword and tell them to try striking their friend in the stomach. No amount of practice padding would block a blow from a masochist man swinging his practice sword – and that was the POINT – you had to BLOCK IT! And obviously counterattack! The time between a blocked attack and your opponent's next attack is not the time to catch your breath.

So lost in thought was Herrick that his eyes did not notice Fangline walk past – but his ears did notice. And without his mind registering, Herrick began planning Elven practice routines based on the spear formations of the Orianni War (also called the Oriannu Wars by the ones who had won the first part but lost the second part). The spear formations included one person blocking... And his partner counterattacking! Yes! Herrick could enforce the importance of the block-and-counter queue, while giving the fourth group member a moment's breathe, so that they could assess their teammates' movements and strive to improve their own handwork! The practice routine was ideal! It could go on for an hour because nobody would become tired when they had to be blocking and stricking only 3/4 of the time! Herrick doubted that the militia were skilled enough to learn the advanced version of the practice involving eight spearmen, but... Well hopefully they would learn fast! Meanwhile... Mrs. Pear planned which type of wood to use for the staves.

~12~

An elven prophet by the name of Stohtle once told the elven King Tiranmas that a doom lay upon his bloodline, and that it would be poisoned by the blood of men from the west across the Great Sea. There were none in the elven Kingdom who would dare make love with with a mortal man, and so the blood of elves was pure, and like the fey, they lived forever, only dying of tragic accident or by loss of interest for this world... The elves were long-lived like the fey, and their near-immortality was considered a holy token of their right to be in existence as a species, and as a kingdom. And so King Tiranmas told his advisor and his highest trusted in command – those of the elves who had sacrificed so many man-lives worth of time towards the growth of their Kingdom that they were among the most honoured and renowned of the elven kingdom... That the threat from the West must be destroyed, before the dampening of their bloodline with mortal bloodline could come to pass.

The spring of next year, an elven sentinel (also known as "he who watches attentively" because the elves needed no warriors so those with weapons carried their weapons in order to symbolize their presence and attention towards those who did not follow elven crees of "Do unto others as you would do unto thineself") – and elven sentinel was watching the banks of the Great Sea and upon this day, on that west shore, stood a man, with shoulder-length black hair plastered to his face, and water dripping from his sodden clothes, and torn pants. Torn so that the pants were no longer pants, but shorts. The man looked at the elf, and raised his hand, shouting some incantation from a foreign language. The sounds that the man shouted sounded like threats to the sentinel, and he recalled their King's order – to slay any man who came across the Great Sea to the land of elves and lesser races. And so the sentinel attacked the man, but the man held his ground, and when he was violently stabbed by the spear he fell-down, and grabbed a rock. And with the rock fought-off the elf, who forgot his spear and food, and ran away from the beach, not telling anyone of the man... Who had shamed him, and defeated him with a mere rock from the sea which had washed upon that beach. And so the man had food, because the elf had forgotten it in his haste, along with the other contents of his travel purse, and a spear. The man healed his wounds, and looked for shelter, but upon that same week, another elf saw the man. Seeing that the man carried a spear – and that the spear was blood-tipped (from a fish that the man had eaten), the elf cried out a challenge to the man – but the man could not understand the elf, and so they fought. The man... To defend himself. But the elf – to avenge his comrade who he thought was the reason that the spear's tip had been reddened by fish-blood (or that of an elf). His people honourable, and his cause just, the elf strung his bow with string stretched taught, and as soon as the string was affixed to both ends he drew his arrow and fired at the man. But in his rage at seeing what he thought was a murdering man... He missed, and the arrow struck a tree beside the man. The man, whose name was Hé-olphrass darted behind the tree and plunged his spear into the bark of the tree, peeling off a loosened chunk of bark with his hand and prying with his speartip to rip it off of the tree. The bark that had caught the arrow and made it bounce-off would help the man to fight the elf.

Hastily, the elf readied another arrow and fired upon the man, but the man deflected it with his resourcefully made bark-shield, and charged at the elf with his spear! Dropping his bow, the elf turned and ran rapidly from the man, before he could be hit by the spear, and disappeared into the forest near the beach, reporting the man's presence to the other elven Sentinels. The man, whose named was Hé-olphrass, continued on his search for shelter, often pausing to hide from elves whose singing or footprints were nearby. For the elves were really a peaceful people who were worried by the prophecy of a doom from the Great Sea that would crush their bloodline, and loved to sing-aloud while walking, or otherwise make their presence known, for the birds of the forest would not pause their melodies if an elf walked by – instead they would sing more joyfully, knowing that the guardians of the land – who did not eat birds (much) - were nearby and not dangerous. And in that day, the elves did not tread carefully among the forest paths, because they lived in great cities like the men of today, and they had no need for stealth when hunting, as they chased down their prey through sheer will of running longer or faster than the prey that was being eaten, until that prey ran out of breath and could be honourably killed with a short prayer to respect its providence.

Now the elven tales of Hé-olphrass spread rapidly, and before long he had defeated many elves of all weaponry – those with spears, those with bows, greatbows, shiny daggers and throwing javelins, and had even defeated an elf who used the staff – a symbol of authority. The man – still looking for shelter – had been attacked by many elves, but after being disarmed the elves had ran, and so the man had never needed to kill. But the King heard about these tales, and within two months, dispatched his court to attack the scourge of (multiple) men who were attacked the elven Kingdom, for he believed that many men were responsible for the exaggerated reports of the elves. The tales had grown out of proportion, and one man seemed a small army, which made the prophecy seem about to come-true. And so the King's court – who all came armed with staves (a wooden staff with a large jewel on the top) because none of the respected elves of the court were cowardly or fearful – they all marched towards the Great Sea, to confront however many men may lie in wait there. And they marched upon the shelter of Hé-olphrass, who had made a place to stay safe, out of wood, grass, and a bear cave. So for the first time since the Goblin Wars of ancient, and the Gnome Raids of old, or the Fey Sundering of ages now in myth... The elves marched. And they marched for war. But when they came upon Hé-olphrass bear den, and had scoured the land for all signs of men... Then they knew that the human army were all inside of this den, and so the King drew his staff – a sword made of steel and gold, made by the dwarves and tipped with diamond on the centre of the blade, and ruby on the hilt... The King strode forth and challenged the human army, and... One man came out. It was Hé-olphrass. And he refuesed to fight. So the Elves entered the cave and found it empty! And they ran across the lands and found it empty of men! And they knew from the stories that Hé-olphrass must be... The only man who had defeated all of the sentinels and hunters and other elves of the elven Kingdom. Embarrassed the King ordered Hé-olphrass to fight him to the death, and the elves took away his spear, took away his bow, took away his makeshift-shield, and took away his shiny knives. They formed a circle around Hé-olphrass, it was a large circle, and they told him to fight. So he picked-up a stick that was on the ground, but the princess of King Tiranmas was apalled at this fighting, and so she broke apart the circle and handed Hé-olphrass her own sword, admonishing the King for starting a fight with a mere human, who had managed to defend himself against elven hunters and was being killed in cold blood. She told Hé-olphrass that her father would kill him, because Hé-olphrass had embarrassed the elves, and that Hé-olphrass must die as a warrior. The man understood the princess' words, because she was gifted with the tongues... And nodded his head. His hair had been cut short, and he was actually rather handsome. And so the princess stepped aside and – as you guessed – King Tiranmas was defeated in the fight, because Hé-olphrass was just that much better and the King got injured, and the court attacked Hé-olphrass, but he snapped all their staves and broke their spears, and would not die. Then when the princess picked-up the sword of the King and pointed it at Hé-olphrass he closed his eyes and dropped to the ground in front of the princess, touching the King. And he put aside his sword, and Tiranmas was suddenly Healed! The warrior man had succeeded in his duel, no one had died, and he and the princess lived happily ever after. Through the power of Empathy, the King's injury became Hé-olphrass injury, and it was through this power that the King's bloodline and the man's bloodline were united as one, causing the prophecy to pass. And making the elves' bloodline weaken with the blood of man, so that they are no longer immortal as the fey, but mortal... Like humans.

"Isn't the fight between Hé-olphrass and the King sort of like a schoolyard fight?" asked a militia.

"No," replied Herrick. "They had rules and were swordsmen. But when you fight at the schoolyard it's just because of pride and... I guess King Tiranmas had a lot of pride."

"But if Tiranmas was the first swordsman, wasn't the King just wielding a glorified stick?"

"There's a difference between staves and swords, and it's the Dwarven steel blade. When you fight with practice swords it's just staff mastery which you're using, not real swordsmanship. The Sword Masters invented fighting methods with the sword, because it's different to fight when a cut could kill you, as oppose to hitting each other with staves that won't hurt unless you get jabbed hard."

"Tell us about the Second Sword Master!" piped up another voice.

"Yeah – the Second Sword Master, I forgot that story!" added another militia.

"No." answered Herrick, and made them all get-up now that they had finsihed their stretching. The hardest part about Herrick's practices were the cardio running-jumping workouts during the first half hour, but the storytime during stretches gave a nice pause before (sword) fencing commenced. And Herrick told stories that made swordfighting sound very chivalrous!

~13~

Erdős had arrived home. It had been hours since he had last spoken with Inigo on account of going outdoors, and Pedro had not taken the initiative to start a conversation other than answering basic questions about where necessities were located. He even got up to show Inigo the container of beef ("yum!") – jerky. You know – like, dried beef. Except it was actually some sort of meat from a deer or an antelope.

"These are salted!" Inigo exclaimed, with a piece of jerky hanging from his teeth. Pedro bowed his head in acknowledgement (and also to obstinately ignore the open-mouthed eating Inigo) and said,

"That is correct," with a nod, and then added, "I'll be downstairs. Don't go outside," Pedro paused to recall the name of whom he was speaking to, but failed, "you might get killed or stabbed." With that uncheery discourse, he turned on his heel and softly navigated the steps downwards until he was out of sight. Inigo stared after him in the direction of the stairs for 30 seconds and then stood for another 10 seconds thinking about his dream. Then his fingers twitched and he remembered the beef jerky that he had been chewing. IT WAS SO GOOD!

So – flashbacks aside – Erdős had arrived home in the afternoon and Inigo knew where the beef jerky was... He had tried to eat as little as possible, but had ended-up eating every strip of jerky until there was only one left (which he was reluctant to eat on account of the fear of feeling guilty about it afterwards)... Someone had told him never to eat the last bite unless – he blinked and tried to focus on the sounds of the door unlocking, and a man opening it. Even remembering Erdős calming words to announce his re-arrival, Inigo fleetingly questioned if he should flee from the incoming human. But then told himself that if he fled downstairs then he would be cutting-off his escape routes, and then mentally punched himself for telling himself to escape Erdős, because Erdős was really his protection from the outside world which consisted now of Rascaline, possible hunger, and at the end of a long trip a tribe of goblins who would probably end his life or something terrible. Inigo glanced-upward, tensing his arms towards his ribs but then untensing his elbows but keeping the two shoulders hunched, as though he was protecting himself from cold weather. Erdős smiled vibrantly while hanging-up his oversized dark cape (possibly for blocking wind, but likely (Inigo later concluded) to look cool while walking down the street). Later, his fanciful images of Erdős sweeping through an empty street with a billowing cape and his solemn yet calming disposition – where shattered by the non-windy (and thus non-epicly-billowing-cape) reality of a muddy Rascaline. But today, Inigo was just trying to rapidly configure his self into a casual (so as to not attract attention) yet formal (so as not to be seen has not regarding Erdős with respect) stance, by rapidly taking a pose with firm footing and then easing his back from the rigid position that it had been in when he had hunched his shoulders, and bending his knees to relieve tension (and thus formality) from his stance by reducing the weight on his calves allowing him to have a steady yet somewhat-cordial (socially receptive) stance for Erdős, so that he could instantly react with the appropriate social defense mechanisms to any prying body language of Erdős.

Erdős saw a slouching goblin and greeted it warmly. But before they were about to speak, the silence was interrupted by a third persona, whose actions caused three things: Firstly, Pedro's greeting was a question, which initiated a conversation. Secondly, it interrupted Inigo's darker inner contemplations on the validity of the sincerity in Erdős' seemingly-genuine (but temporary?) warm naturedness. And thirdly, it made short work Inigo's mental-calculations as to approximately how much warmth had been calculated into the body language of Erdős by those seemingly gentle eyes that demanded nothing from himself. The reason this mental-calculation was cancelled was because Pedro's natural greetings was taken so unsurprisedly by Erdős that Inigo quickly and regretfully assumed that Erdős had been acting naturally with his cape-removing and his smile and his face and his gentle poise of calmly entering into the house. The cause for regret was that Pedro's greeting had indirectly caused a fourth result, which was that of Inigo realizing that his carefully-composed casual-yet-formal-yet-neither-casual-nor-rigid body stance and defensive preparedness for a submissive posture or an elusive gesture to throw-off a prying vocal assertion by switching the topic from the uncomfortable conversation to the movement of his own hands gesturing in casual defensive-mechanism type reaction... All of these preparations for the arrival of Erdős. Every single carefully instinctively-planned mental preparation and defense mechanism... They were useless! And that was why Inigo hated Pedro when Pedro asked,

"What took you?" with legs-crossed and back leaning against the wall at the stairs, left side of his back turned towards Erdős and the coat(cape)hanger, with his prone right arm snug between his body and the wall, with the right hand holding onto a long stick, which Inigo realized was not for lecturing or pointing at people, but was actually a device used for performing on the wooden violin instruments (due to the fact that it looked liked the curved wooden sticks with hair tied taught between both ends in order to test-out the sound of the violin). Inigo thought he knew a lot about violins after staring at Pedro for over half an hour after midday lunch.

"Oh, I don't know." sighed Erdős. "It would be nice if I had something to do but I spoke with some people and they weren't taken."

("By what?") wondered Inigo without speaking. Pedro gave him a sharp glance and Inigo wondered if Pedro had been reading his thoughts (but Pedro had just been puzzled by Inigo suddenly tilting his neck in curiosity, and the glance had appeared to be a sharp-glance because after gauging that Inigo was not going to ask a question, Pedro immediately ignored the other goblin. Therefore the duration of the glance was so short that Inigo conceived it to be a sharp or 'aggressive' glance). Then Pedro spoke,

"Blah bla blah blah. You aardvark?" is what Inigo heard from Pedro, because as much as he tried to pay attention to the boring conversation, his mind was just too relieved at not having to calculate and misjudge the false-sincerities of his peers (whom he considered superiors). He could just relax until someone asked him a question, which never happened. He was rather surprised to see Erdős walk past him and enter with Pedro into the kitchen. He heard something about his name being mentioned once or more times but didn't hear the first part of the sentence and the second time he didn't hear over the sounds of kitchening/cooking and the third time he was fast asleep.

"I wonder why he fell asleep." mused Erdős, leaving the food to simmer on the fireplace stove, which he lowered the heat of by spreading apart the slowly burning embers (one ember was large enough to be called a log) to keep the heat of combustion of the wood from feeding the process of burning nearby pieces of now-charcoal wood blocks. Evidently Pedro had not kept the fire burning all day because of the low amount of difference between the current magnitude of burnt firewood versus the previous night's stuff in the fireplace. He wondered some worried thoughts about Inigo, and then lit a candle from the licking flames along the edge of the second-largest ember (which had also been the longest until it had snapped under the weight of the log) and took his pale 'fingernail-pink' coloured candle upstairs to his work desk. To read the next update of the Lintier webcomic on his laptop.

"Ooh! This is good." said Pedro, standing over the backend of the chair on which his master Erdős was sitting on. The two gazed at the new strip in shared quietness, until Erdős suggested,

"Let's scroll-down," to read the comments, which caused Pedro to nod his head in unseen agreement. Erdős saw the movement reflected in the black part of the webpage where the laptop lighting was dark as the reflective screen surface, and wondered bemusedly on whether Pedro had noticed that he was nodding his head in a coordinate that Erdős could not see. Though if Pedro had known that Erdős had seen the nodding head then he might have been amused that Erdős had seen him performing an action of nodding the head while incorrectly assuming that Erdős could see him. The cause for amusement being that it is ironic that Pedro's friend could see him perform an embarrassing action such as incorrectly assuming that his nodding head could be seen as a gesture to Erdős, yet the bountiful irony flourishing in the small detail that Erdős, through the act of noticing that embarrassing action, had actually negated the entire cause of embarrassment by indeed being in sight of the nodding action!

Suddenly a Skype call appeared on the laptop.

"Hello? Who is this?" asked Erdős with a gallant calmness.

"Get Back In Your Story!" ordered Colby Purcell. Erdős nodded his head vigorously up and down while Pedro typed "o.o" and hit Enter.

~14~

Fangline trotted down the muddy street with his new hat, poking it inside and out to determine it's squishyness and magnitude of cushioning. He wondered why the hat seemed to have the qualities of a pillow, and then recalled that this was Rascaline – the Land of the Curiously-Adorned Foreheads, not to mention the Secret Society of Headwear Enthusiasts, and the Carock Cranium Container Creation Club... All of which sported trendy hats and adornments for headwear lovers. Fangline was surprised that they were even copying his Butler's headwear... A fad that Geeves would not be pleased about.

Sporting the round and highly-cushiony gear on his head, Fangline felt his blonde hair flatten snug about his ears – covering the tips of his sonic detectors which gave-away his elfness to random passerby. Smiling briefly, he planned his next target.

Shortly thereafter, Fangline arrived at a well. Noting that there was no royal servant handing-out cups, he decided to first purchase a cup before acquiring any water. He also noted that the rope pulling up the bucket was rather wet, and wondered whether it had crept from the bucket into the rope or that possibly someone had just splashed their water onto the rope. He would have to examine the length of rope that had been wetted the next time he visited the well – but if the water level was higher during the day then perhaps the bucket would not extend the pulley-mechanism far enough to reveal the extent of wetted rope if it had been water which had been spilled back into the well. Thankfully, since the number of water takers was evidently higher during the day than at night, Fangline assumed that he would merely have to check the upper part of the rope attached to the bucket after lowering the bucket to draw water. Above head-height should show a dry rope if the wetness was caused by people pouring excess water back into the well, but then of course – he could just check the rope that stayed wrapped around the rotating shaft attached to the pulley! Then Fangline smelled fish, and decided to look for the source.

A marvelous shop with red tiles overtop! Marvelous because it contained a product which emanated the appetizing scent of... Fish! Fangline bought two before realizing that they were not cooked, and then changed his mind and was about to order a precooked one when he realized that they were salted. So the fish must be precooked (he took a bite). Ugh – it was terribly salty. He sat down against a wall to finish nibbling, but noticed a beggar girl and decided to leave. Having doubts about his own charisma, he ran-over his actions in his mind again while perusing other shop stalls, and then gave the beggar his other piece of fish, leaving before she could show her response. Feeling anxious, because he still had not located a rope-selling stall, Fangline broadened his search, and looked for tool-selling stalls. Perhaps an enclosed building that sold tools or clothing would have lengths of rope.

"Wait... Not rope – but I need a cup!" Thought Fangline to himself. That proved much easier to find, and the beggar smiled at him on his way back to the cup-selling guy. It was a pretty boring-looking cup.

~15~

Fangline pondered where he would stay the night. He did not have any money and could not beg for pocket-change. He was also cut-off from his allowance due to being in Rascaline, which made his only possible way of affording an inn to be bartering-away one of his trinkets which commoners seemed to find so valuable. He hypothesized that one merchant may be willing to exchange an appropriate amount of currency equivalent to the value of his remaining baubles/trinkets so that Fangline could spend the money on individual purchases instead of overpaying for one purchase with his jewelry... He supposed that he could also use Elven currency, the denari! Fangline remembered that he had taken a pouch of money with him when he had run from Schloeffelonia. He could also sell his gun, but felt uncomfortable giving-up possession of the weapon – who knows what the humans here would end-up doing such as killing... He imagined a dead human, and for a second a vision of three dwarves each carrying a gun pointed at him appeared in the fore of his mind. The dwarves each had the same face as himself, and Fangline shuddered his body as if a sudden gust of wind had whipped into his head and frozen his mind and body... But the cold was a figment of his defense mechanisms – a figment of his imagination designed to distract him from his own sense of guilt. So Fangline forgot the entire subject of his inner-reflections and deigned to find a merchant who could exchange Elven currency for their Rascaline equivalent. Or better yet – a trader who could tell him the exchange-rate without skewing the truth in favor of making a profit! Fangline drifted down the street at a steady gait, eyes sifting along the store front titles and wares in an attempt to identify a merchant who could unbiasedly tell him the exchange rate of the Elven denari. In accordance with a sudden bright idea, he decided to walk in a wide circle, ending-up at the not-so-marvelous salted fish shop. He looked for the beggar girl, but she was gone. So much for asking for information from a dependable source. He would have to rely on luck rather than good karma in order to find his merchant. He considered against purchasing another fish... Maybe there was a pastry shop nearby – but first he had to find a place to exchange his Elven coins!

~16~

Pedro was in his craftshop working on something-or-rather, when Inigo entered from the stairwell. Neither said anything, although Pedro had a hunch that he should start the conversation, so he did:

"Uh," he began, and hearing Inigo's intake of breath decided that 'uh' was enough to start a conversation. Inigo paused, expecting something more (i.e. a greeting) but this never came, so after a few seconds less than Pedro had expected, the conversation's pause was interrupted by a continuation:

"W... Well I wanted to look at – your shop," decided Inigo, rationalizing that he could not just go and reveal that he was interested in Pedro's actions downstairs, in case the other party took-offense.

'You came to the right place' Pedro thought of saying, but didn't. Instead he answered, "nothing gets sold here. Well I sell stuff like this," tapping his middle fingernail on the violin's back wood (since his index finger was holding something and his other hand was already firmly grasping the instrument in his lap, on his seat, on a stool). He could continue by describing the stool to Inigo, since it was a stool he had partially made... But he doubted that it would be an on-topic opinion (forgetting that the type of stool was a piece of information, not to be confused with the opinion that most of the stool had been made by Pedro rather than the previous owner/seller of the stool). So he opted with a, "cuz Erdős knows a lot of people who buy them."

"Like fruit?" asked Inigo.

(Where did that comment come from) pondered Pedro to himself. Inigo had actually learned from Erdős that shops sold fruit, although this information was unbeknownst to Pedro, so Pedro dismissed his own uncertainty and nodded in accord.

"Exactly like fruit," he said sarcastically, imagining some human attempting to play Venn's Third Concerto on a mango. "They're even made from trees." He expected Pedro to say, "Oh - I didn't know fruit was made from trees," and then mentally scolded himself for thinking of that. But wondered when Pedro would pick-up on the sarcasm, or why he had said he liked fruit. Then he remembered last night's conversation about shops (between Inigo and Erdős), but suddenly Inigo started saying,

"Oh -"

DON'T SAY IT! Thought Pedro mentally.

So you make the items and the man advertises, Inigo spoke in goblin.

Pedro was about to let-out the breath that he had taken when he'd heard Inigo begin to start saying "Oh I didn't know fruit was from trees," but stopped himself from exhaling when he caught the goblin dialect. Something that no human – not even Erdős – spoke.

"I didn't know you spoke goblin," answered Pedro, and then facepalmed. "Look, you're disturbing my crafting, so please get out." He thought he sounded too abrupt, and possibly was offending Inigo whom he did not want to offend (yet), but... He really needed to cover his embarrassment over saying something like that. Then... Did he also say things like that to Erdős? Erdős never picked-up on them aloud, but with such a hard goblin accent Pedro imagined that he made tons of mistakes! Did he always sound so stupid?

My apologies, began Inigo, and instead of continuing with his apology and vocal farewell, decided to just turn-tail and run up the stairs.

'I'm a noob,' thought Pedro to himself, removing his palm from his facepalm, and resuming his carving. Lunch that day was uneventful, and a couple hours later Erdős came home.

~17~

"Hey what's up Elf?" asked a human at Fangline's face. Fangline paused his search between street signs and muttered as he strode past the teenager,

"What do you want?" in monotone.

"You're an Elf!" the human exclaimed. Two boys sitting on a barrel on the right side of the street laughed, and a third one behind Fangline and to his left said something illegible. Fangline composed himself, stopped walking, turned to the human and said,

"-" he didn't say anything. He just wrinkled his eyes and finally said something, "Go away." But the teenager followed him as Fangline continued walking with his eyes to the ground trying not to listen,

"I love Elves," (Fangline shuddered), "did you get from Kaz - I am mean Schloefeeyonia..?" (what kind of grammar – no – what kind of pronunciation was that? wondered a horrified Fangline) but the teenager continued his pestilence, "Umm. Are you on a Mission?" Fangline tried to block-out the sound by frowning, "Who are you gonna kidnap?"

"What the fae?" answered Fangline, trying not to smack the teenager. Then all three boys on the barrel and (Fangline noticed the third) one just walking towards him... All began to laugh. 'Fae!' thought Fangline to himself. 'They may never stop nagging me.' and he left, rather-rapidly (to the boys' unsatisfaction, since they had been amazed at the presence of someone who (they thought) was an Aelf Assassin)!

~18~

Herrick nodded in-time to his gait. He passed an unnoticeable doorway and stepped on some ground and said to himself, 'Yeah,' and continued walking. The doorway did not notice, because it was inanimate and could not hear. But if the door had been a living piece of wood in the magical mountainside forests of Fairy Peak, then perhaps it would have felt the vibration of his passing footsteps, or the swish of the air that he parted before him, which made his blonde hair bang bounce across his forehead because the artificial wind created by Herrick moving-forward lifted the bang enough to not press against his forehead, which reduced its coefficient of friction against his skin thus allowing it to 'bounce'!

I bet Elves are so awesomely quick because they just totally dismiss reaction time and just anticipate their opponents moves! (Herrick thought to himself... But if his vocal form of speech was so informal... Yeah he probably thought more like this,) 'I propose from theoretical standpoint the possibility of -' (or maybe he thought like this,) When I stab a target the elves do it faster because they do it under the assumption that their opponent will show an opening earlier and thus they make an attack before they actually know whether or not it will be beneficial, and by attacking early thus create the opening via surprising their opponent. But why would they do that if the other Elf knows this to be the case thus ending the element of surprise? Could it be that reaction time factors in? And if so, then what is the reaction time of an Elf in comparison to that of a human? Or myself? (Yes, that is probably how he thought... But because he is awesome, Herrick's mental dialogue will be interpreted as,) DUDE AND ELVES ARE TOTALLY FAST MAN! If I was stabbing a target then an Elf would totally stab it before I even knew what was happening because they are super-smart and the target if it were a person would just be like 'wow – what happened?'

Thusly was Herrick walking down an alleyway, when he saw a woman with a bonnet carrying something, and somebody smack into a woman. Herrick's first instinct was, 'I hope he doesn't make me forget what I was thinking about,' but then he quickly grabbed the basket and in accord with his simultaneous hunch, 'Thief!' he also tried grabbing at the figure who had knocked into the woman. But it was totally Fangline, because the person who turned around to frown at Herrick was none-other than... Someone who had pointy ears!

Herrick titled his head to look at the ears, and Fangline's frown deepened.

"You made me forget what I was thinking!" exclaimed Herrick, while Fangline simultaneously tried a different approach from the one that had not worked at dissuading the teenagers from conversing with him (i.e. asking, "what do you want?") and instead opted for a quiet silence, but accidentally hissed through teeth – while the woman on the ground turned to Herrick and gratefully said,

"Ouch."

Ok, thought Herrick, shifting his gaze between the three. Before the woman got confused as to who was the thief, Herrick returned the basket heroicly (at least he thought he looked heroic, which was - in most cases – how he looked when he was doing stuff (according to the author – but maybe Fangline and the woman thought he was a conceited hyperactive swordsman who was part of the militia and looking for a chance to boss people around – since he was wearing his instructor's outfit which was basically a militiaman uniform with shouldercapes and wrist cuffs)). And after returning the basket he lifted his eyebrow at Fangline and said,

"I hope you weren't -..." ("-stealing that!") but got interrupted as the Elf said,

"Hello."

"Hello." said the woman clenching her basket. If it had fallen just a little further and swung just a little more when Herrick caught it, then they would have been able to see the contents inside which were - unfortunately (in Herrick's opinion) – covered up.

Fangline decided to try a more fruitful approach to this inter-racial conversation and asked,

"Do you happen to know the location of an inexpensive inn where I won't have to work for my rent because I don't know how to muck a horses' stable stall?" and then added, "Please?" If this didn't work, then he was punching the next human he came-across, although that would hurt his hand so he might just hit at them or wish very strongly that a stone brick from one of the nearby buildings popped-out of the wall and hit them for him (to avoid any sense of guilt). But Herrick responded,

"Why did you bump into that person?" feeling pleased with his quick reaction time at catching the basket. He had anticipated that it would fall (not true)!

"Because I thought it would provide me with the opportunity to ask you that question, obviously," bluffed Fangline.

Herrick considered calling the bluff, but then decided that – because Elves were so smart – that it wasn't a bluff. He rolled his head and with (heroically) thoughtful-eyes raised towards the sky which was partially obscured by his hair bang, answered,

"I don't know," and decided to be honest, "the inns around here kind of want you to pay," and added with a hint, "but as an Elf - " (Fangline did not want to hear that word, but accepted it because Herrick was using it in the context of trying to be helpful (or manipulative to gain trust..?)) "- you may be able to find a free from at an Elitehouse."

"Then take me to the Elite House," answered Fangline. Then the woman smiled and asked,

"Are you alright? I am sorry for bumping -"

"It's fine," interrupted Fangline, and then turned to peer at Herrick's bang to try and determine where on the man's head the many blonde strands of hair started.

Herrick raised his other eyebrow (which defeated the point because now both brows were raised instead of just one – but he did not notice and thought he looked cool) saying, "Sure!" He looked at the woman whose outward-personality had changed from confused-yet-possibly-about-to-be-angry to 'apologetic' as soon as she had heard the prefix 'Elite'spoken to an Elf, and decided that asking the Elf to apologize to the already-apologetic-herself woman on the street would be... An inadequate display of etiquette – or lack-thereof! Herrick breathed-in and said,

"Let's get there fast," and walked-off at a slower gait than before he had exited from the alleyway into the abrupt elf-woman-Herrick meeting (but still at a steady pace), and did not pause to see if the Elf was following, because he already heard (and anticipated!) that the Elf would follow. He wondered if asking why the Elf was looking for an Inn with stables... But decided that he could get better answers by hypothesizing his own explanations rather than asking the humble Elf. (Humble? Hah! Fangline's just testing different methods of greeting on humans because he is desparate for a place to stay! But this is exciting, because Herrick and Fangline are supposed to meet in this story, and I think they just did!)