Chapter 8: 8 - Misspelling

It was getting late into the day by then, maybe an hour before sundown. Amir made it to the now familiar alley but was still somewhat surprised that Pebblethrow and Gobsmack were both seemingly waiting for him. The girl was tossing her gently glowing rock up and down while Gobsmack leaned against the wall.

“Here, see,” Pebblethrow nodded enthusiastically, both arms crossing smugly as soon as she noticed him.

“Took hours,” the male goblin grunted.

“Never talk about how long,” she just grinned back.

“Wait, have you been here the entire time?” Amir stared.

“Just most,” Pebblethrow shrugged. “Have rats. Here,” the cage was lying on the ground to the side in plain sight, though Amir had missed it at first.

“I would have hurried had I known,” Amir sighed, shaking his head. “Instead, I have been to the library. Wait a bit with the rats, I want to talk first.”

“Also pay first,” she reminded.

“Also pay,” Amir confirmed. He reached into his purse and began to count out the agreed upon amount.

“What talk about?” she asked.

“I confronted Gramma Rose, as I said I would. Her answer… has confused me for the lack of a better word.”

“Explain,” Gobsmack said with some curiosity.

“She does not hate goblins for being goblins. No, wait, she does, I suppose, but not in the way I thought,” Amir stumbled in his thought process just as he handed Pebblethrow her coins. “I should have planned what to say… hmm… essentially, she seems to believe that all of you may collectively lose your mind and cause great mayhem.”

“How can gobs just all lose mind?” Pebblethrow raised an eyebrow with a mocking grin on her lips. Gobsmack on the other hand was frowning deeply, even for a goblin.

“She spoke of a King,” Amir glanced at Gobsmack. Unlike Pebblethrow he seemed to have some kind of an idea.

“King,” he scoffed. “Not gob word.”

“Then do you have an equivalent?” Amir asked.

“Never need it. Just because humans decided to use their word doesn’t mean gobs did,”

“Surely there must be a term,” Amir said. “What would have the goblins called the one that humans referred to as ‘King’ then?”

“His name,” Gobsmack shrugged. “Why call anyone something else?”

“Which is something…”

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“What is king?” Pebblethrow interrupted.

“Humans use the word for a ruler… the person everyone in a big area listens to, everywhere in this entire country to be specific. Somewhat simplistically put.”

“K, what to do with gobs?” she nodded along but still seemed somewhat out of the loop.

“The goblin King?” Amir stared at her. “You know, the Briar War? The conflict that had claimed tens of thousands of lives?

“Ah, that why lot of humans hate gobs?” she asked. And Amir was beffudled into silence. Did she not know? How even could she not know?

“Young, stupid, never heard story,” Gobsmack instead sighed.

“Then tell,” she squinted at him.

“Hard story,” he shook his head.

“Not afraid,” Pebblethrow insisted.

“Hard to tell,” Gobsmack still denied her.

“So you are more aware of it then?” Amir asked. The boy was clearly far too young to have seen any of it even as a child but a second-hand account about what he had heard from an elder sounded reasonable.

“What right have to our story? Why deserve it?” Gobsmack questioned.

“Perhaps none besides my curiosity,” Amir admitted. “Do I need a great reason to try and pursue the truth? I have been to the library and read what could be found in a short while. Perhaps more research could uncover more but I have an inkling that whatever account you have to give will be at the very least radically different from what I may yet find in books.”

“Maybe right,” he nodded slowly. Then redirected. “What do with Gramma?”

“For now, I think I would like to convince her that she is wrong,” Amir said. “Despite her opinion on goblins, I do not think it comes truly from a place of evil. People can be swayed.”

“Stupid,” Gobsmack scoffed. “Cannot talk rock into being wood.”

“Perhaps not,” Amir admitted. “That does not mean I should not try. And perhaps there is a way."

“Not story for you, still,” Gobsmack said after looking Amir over for a few seconds.

“That is your choice to make,” Amir acknowledged, hiding his bitterness. Not about the mistrust - they were almost strangers - more about the secrets just out of reach. “Still, I will try to pursue it and hope you will change your mind.”

“Probably not,” Gobsmack shrugged, then turned to leave.

“Bye!” Pebblethrow said enthusiastically, then followed Gobsmack.

“May I impose at least a single question?” Amir said. Gobsmack did not turn towards him though, so he just hurled it out: “Was he truly named Awful?”

That gave the goblin a pause. That made him look back. Just for a moment before he vanished behind the corner.

“He had many names,” he said. “But never that.”

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“Tell story?” Pebblethrow asked a few streets later. She was curious but different ideas swirled through her head in the moment.

“Ye, but not now,” Gobsmack replied. He seemed thoughtful, more than she had ever seen the older goblin. “Need to think. To tell properly. Maybe more gobs should know.”

“K,” she nodded and they walked for a bit longer. Then Pebblethrow spoke again. “Have stupid idea.”

“How stupid?” Gobsmack asked.

“Maybe death stupid,” she admitted.

“But still want to do?” he asked for confirmation.

“Ye,” she admitted, bracing for a blow to the back of her back. It never came.

“Tell,” Gobsmack looked at her seriously instead. “Might help.”

“Not angry?” she asked dubiously.

“If gobs know something maybe death but still want to try? Afraid of smack more than death?” he said. “So we make a plan that makes the maybe smaller. But first, come eat.”

“K. Thanks,” she nodded.