Chapter 28

Creeper stood, shaking horribly, by the stable doors, listening for the slightest sound on the other side.

He didn't hear anything, but it did not help his state of mind.

Ever since he had been dealt the bloodcurdling task of caring for the horse, his life had changed from a living prison to a downright waking nightmare.

Literally.

His every thought in his every every waking moment. . .the ones that didn't stem from his master, that is. . .were constantly on the big black beast waiting for him at the stable, without fail, every morning, every night. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. . .

He had even started having nightmares about the thing, dreaming of it galloping through the castle with red eyes and fiery hooves, smoke pouring from its nose, seeking to destroy him.

The goblin had more than enough nightmares that stemmed from other things. He didn't need any more!

It had gotten to the point that Creeper didn't just think it anymore. He was thoroughly convinced the. . .horse. . .for lack of a better term. . .was the illegitimate result of what happened when one of Loki's pets and one of Hades' got together.

And now neither of the gods would claim it, so they had turned it loose on earth to terrorize some poor, unsuspecting mortal. He could see them now, laughing their heads off at his misfortune.

Every single day it got harder and harder for Creeper to feed and water the animal while simultaneously saving all his limbs.

Grooming and mucking out the stall were completely out of the question before they could even be tallied in. It simply couldn't be done.

Creeper had tried every idea he could possibly think of, from racing madly in the door and running about like a heint as he threw his chores about, dodging hooves and teeth, to lowering himself to the trough to dump the food in from a rope and bucket system he had attached to the rafters.

And the sad thing was that the horse never fell for the same trick twice.

Ever.

Half the time the animal was a step ahead of the goblin. For every clever trick the goblin could whip up, the horse would respond with an equally cunning comeback. The animal was smart enough to be a war general.

Or a strategist.

One time, when Creeper had gotten the brilliant idea to draw the horse's attention to the front door by making his presence loudly known, then going in through the tiny back door at the other end of the stable to sneak into the feedroom, race out, throw the feed in the trough and get out of the building as fast as possible, he thought it had worked for the first few minutes.

The horse had continued to watch the front door as Creeper, with bated breath, carefully handfulled the grain into the pan so it couldn't be heard. Feeling like he was walking on pins, he had toptoed to the horse's trough and slowly handfulled it into there as well, before carefully grabbing the water bucket and tiptoeing out the back to fill it at the pump in the courtyard.

When he had came back the horse was still at the door, its ears laid back. Creeper had stealthily moved the heavy bucket back to the stall and left it, only to turn around and see the horse in the stall door, effectively blocking the way, it ears pinned at him and its eyes glinting murder underneath that hedge of a mane. It had been listening to him all this time, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Creeper didn't even have time to curse the creature as it charged at him, striking like mad. Sparks flew off the animal's shoes as they struck the stone floor where the goblin had been a mere breath earlier.

In the end, the horse had cornered Creeper in the feedroom and hadn't moved from the door, striking whenever the goblin so much as peeked through the wood.

After being trapped for nearly twelve grinding hours, he had managed to scratch a tiny, tiny hole in the roof of the feedroom (Using only his little claws and teeth) leading to the loft, and from there go out the tiny window several dozen feet above the ground, hanging onto the barn wall for all he was worth.

He had kept spitting wood for days.

How he made it out alive out of the ordeal at all was a miracle in itself.

He was thoroughly convinced the horse enjoyed every second of his misery. It made sounds unlike anything the goblin had ever heard before in his life, as it chased him around the stable every day. Since its rider was nowhere to be found, its sole joy in life seemed to be attempting to beat the living daylights out of him.

Creeper never knew if he would live or not after each encounter.

Bruises and scrapes covered his little body where the horse had nicked him here and there when he was too slow in getting out of the way. Only by the Fates' grace was he still alive and in possession of all his parts.

The Invisibles had taken pity on him at some point and transferred the feedbin outside, so he could simply pour the grain into a pan and push it under the door, but after the first day the horse had caught on, and after eating would proceed to kick and toss the pan all over the stable, no doubt delighting in the metallic noise it made when it hit things.

Creeper had used another pan the next day, and another the next, until the stack by the feedbin was completely gone. The Invisibles either couldn't or wouldn't supply him with any more, and he realized that he was going to have go inside and collect some.

One, at least.

Shivering, Creeper put his ear to the door again to listen, but the stable was as quiet as a tomb.

If he had to do this very much longer, he had no doubt that it would eventually be the death of him.

The idea of this wretched stable being his final resting place was far from a pleasant feeling.

Swallowing hard, the goblin slowly slid the latch back on the door, cringing as the metal scraped against the wood.

When no explosion of noise came from inside, he risked poking his head around the side of the door.

Nothing but a long, empty expanse of hall greeted him, to his shock.

Looking carefully around, he tiptoed inside, trying to look everywhere at once, trying to be as quiet as a mouse walking on feathers.

Inching his way across the floor, he slowly, slowly, came further in, glancing around furtively for at least one of the pans he had fed the animal with, but there was nothing.

The grey light from outside didn't help the gloom much, but it was enough to see by and dimly make out all the cracks where the cobblestones fitted together.

Peeking in all the stalls as he slowly made his way down, (which were all still open) he constantly kept his ears and eyes strained for anything that moved. Just one little noise and he was out of here. . .

As he reached the end of the hall, he could make out three of the pans lying on the floor in random areas. Ever so carefully, he picked them up, making absolutely sure they didn't clink together.

Holding them tightly to his chest, he turned around to tiptoe back, when something above him caught his eye.

Craning his head back, he saw the outline of pan number four, lodged in between the crossbeams that held up the ceiling, several feet above his head.

His mouth dropped open in shock.

'How in the devil did it get up there?'

The ceiling was a good twelve feet high, something the horse couldn't reach with his hooves or his head. And yet, the pan was there.

Creeper, after staring another moment, shook himself and began to tiptoe slowly out. He didn't need that pan, he had three now.

Or did he?

If he got the other pan too, he wouldn't have to go back inside again for one more feeding. For four whole days, he wouldn't even have to set a toe inside this stable, all he needed to do was get the other pan.

Torn, Creeper glanced first at the door at the end of the hall, waiting for him with open arms, then back at the pan, who promised another taste of paradise in the long run. As in, not having to fight with the horse for one more blessed day.

Mentally slapping himself, Creeper carefully set down the other pans and, hopping up on top of the wall of the stall nearest him, slowly began to climb his way up the post toward the crossbeams.

Crawling on his stomach across the wood, he drew nearer and nearer to the pan, all his concentration on gripping the plank below him so he wouldn't fall off. He shuddered at the thought and willed himself not to look down.

The twelve feet to the floor would surely result in broken bones of some type if he slipped.

Reaching for it, his fingers brushed the edge of the pan, causing it to wobble slightly.

Saying a tiny prayer to whoever might be listening, Creeper crawled forward another few inches and tried again. His fingers closed around the edge of the pan and he pulled it to him in relief.

So concerned about getting the pan, he was now faced with another problem.

Now he had to get down.

Realizing he couldn't possibly climb down with only one hand without killing himself, he clamped the edge of the pan firmly in his teeth as he descended.

After several jaw-breaking minutes, his feet touched the floor again.

Nearly sighing in relief, he quietly picked up all the pans and started tiptoeing to the door, nearly dancing in excitement.

'By Orion I'm good, that horse didn't hear a thing,' he thought proudly.

'Guess he's not as smart as he thinks he is.'

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen or heard the animal during the entire time he was in the stable. The place might as well have been empty.

It may as well have been a graveyard.

A lightning fast streak scurried across the floor in front of him from the shadowy stall to his left, kicking up straw.

The already nervous goblin screamed and dropped the pans, clanging them all loudly to the floor and sending them rolling.

In the silence, the crashing was deafening.

Creeper balled himself up on the floor, covering his head with his arms.

'Its over, its over!' He thought desperately.

'I'm gonna die!'

The pans slowly clanged into silence before Creeper dared to open his eyes a tiny crack.

Across from him to his left, he saw a tiny mouse run up the wall and disappear into the shadows, heading for the loft.

Realizing that that had been the object of his terror, he got unsteadily to his feet, cursing that mouse a hundred times over.

Collecting all the pans again, he headed to the door, still attempting to be quiet, despite the fact that everything within a dozen miles of the castle had probably heard him.

As he tiptoed past the stable from where the mouse had fled, a massive black hoof crashed down in front of him, shaking the very building.

Creeper, peeking over the top of the pans he carried, looked into the blazing eyes above him for one fraction of a second before screaming at the top of his lungs and leaping high in the air in terror.

Dropping all the pans again he ran for the door, the horse screaming at him from behind and doing his level best to run him into the ground.

Creeper barely bailed out the door in time before an Invisible slammed it shut.

The crash of the horse kicking the door sounded like the end of the world from inside the courtyard.

Shivering violently, the goblin wobbled to his feet to stare at the closed door, hearing the screaming animal crash through the pans and start the ritual of kicking them all over the stable.

Again.

Creeper balled his hands into fists.

All that work, wasted.

"You stupid animal!"

He screamed at the door, determined to have the last word.

"If I didn't feed you you'd DIE!"

The roaring noise from the animal answered him, right as a thunderous blow was dealt to the door again. It was laughing at him!

Nearly crying in rage, the goblin looked around wildly for something to throw as hard as absolutely possible, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a rock the size of his fist appeared out of thin air.

"Have at thee, mister Three-Pans-Weren't-Enough!" The disembodied voice of the Invisible choked out, barely holding in a laugh.

Rage filled the little goblin as the servant dared to torment him after what had just happened.

"SHUT!"

Creeper shouted at the Invisible as he grabbed the rock and pulled his arm back. . .

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!"

Loosing the rock from his hand, he watched in a wicked satisfaction as it sailed high into the air and right across the courtyard, nearly blending into the grey sky.

Already he felt so much *better*! It was amazing what releasing a little steam could do!

Feeling renewed, he watched as it shot back toward ground level.

That horse wouldn't get the better of him, noooo sir! He could handle it! He was going to prove that horse wrong, even if it took him the rest of his life!

The shattering of glass brought Creeper back to earth with a punch.

Both he and the Invisible stared, open-mouthed in horror, as a rock-sized hole suddenly appeared in the only glass window the entire castle had ever possessed.

With huge eyes, they both watched as the rest of the glass suddenly crumpled to pieces, spilling over the roof to drop some of the larger bits into the courtyard below, leaving a massive, gaping black hole in the castle wall.

The silence that followed seemed to last for at least a few centuries, as the goblin and the Invisible stared, frozen, in the courtyard, with open mouths. Even the horse inside the stable was quiet.

Neither said a single word during that time.

Until the Invisible said under its breath to Creeper, who was starting to realize just what he had done,

"My friend, you make the *Worst* decisions of any mortal I've ever. . .Did you really aim for that?"

A long silence.

". . . . . . . . . .No."

More silence.

". . . . . . . .Pity."

Another bout of silence followed as the Invisible tried to think of some way to make the goblin feel better.

"On the other hand, though. . .hehe . . .I suppose its a good day to die."

The goblin glared daggers at the empty air beside him.

"Shut up."