From the elves to the giants the land was peaceful.
War was not waged for many a year. The fruits were emerging on tree plump and ripe bulging with juices so delicious. The meadows were full of new to harvest wheat so bountiful amongst the kinsfolk of such small people with nothing but an ever pulsing happiness in their hearts. But since perfection is an impossible goal there are always some evil beings with dreadful ideas from nasty spiders and groggy dungeons to greedy goblins and fiery dragons.
Inevitably folk of such kind are those who give birth to such great tales and for that I am thankful. But don’t get me wrong bad is bad and good is good and despite their good doings they are not good doings all the same.
On this subject I could ramble for time and on but I must go back to the particular tale of Baldin and the goblins of Mirk. You see Baldin is a man of great adventure with a heart for riches and power. He used to serve for the kings of men and has long since left the army of such folk for the ominous snow-capped mountains, the charming and on-going hills, and the dangerous life-ridden caves.
The story begins in Baldin’s hut in the hills where he is eating his hearty breakfast of biscuits, mead, bread, butter, and juicy oranges along with fat grapes and tasty watermelons. As the mead soaked in to Baldin’s red beard he thought about his cattle and sheep outside. By now they would have woken up from their sleep and started grazing on the grass but he should still feed them some forbs. To them that was quite the treat. After taking a fulfilling bite of buttered bread, Baldin plopped a juicy plump grape into his mouth and walked outside.
It was warm with a cool breeze, the perfect temperature. To the East you could see giant snow-capped mountains and rolling grassy hills to the West. There was a cloudless blue sky with doves flying about chirping to their delight. In the woods straight in front of the hut there are deer prancing amongst the trees in their search for food. A perfect day, soon to change, but live in the moment, right? Baldin walked over to his enormous field of sheep surrounded by a fence, three acres big.On the fence there was a jar full to the brim with forbs, plenty. Baldin walked over to his favorite sheep, Grazet, and screwed of the top of the jar and pulled out a forb putting it into Grazet’s mouth.
As he walked up to his other sheep Baldin heard a carriage behind him the metal braces over the wooden wheels rolling over the dirt path to the hut. Baldin turned around and saw the royal emblem of the Kingdom of Latios.
“What is it?”

“Fellow Nasten has fallen in battle to the goblins of Mirk!” the men responded.

“What!” Baldin’s anger raging within him. “Not Nasten! Not a friend! Why did you come to me anyways?”

“The Kingdom of Latios is asking for your help in killing the king of the Goblins”

“Now, in such a peaceful time? Why, that could start terrible things”

“Indeed but terrible things have already started”
“How so, why were you fighting?”

“The goblins were looking for the king’s amulet which we had stolen ages ago”

“And so you fought them?”

“Indeed we did”

“Why did you steal the amulet from them?”

“They had killed our king”

“I see, I shall fight for you under two conditions, first and foremost you take care of my cattle and sheep”

“That is fine”

“And you destroy the amulet if I die”

“But-”

“- Ok let me get ready”

Baldin walked back into his hut excited for adventure but nevertheless fearing the goblins. Revenge was the only thing in Baldin’s mind that really motivated him. He went to his bedroom where her crawled under his bed and pulled out a loose board with a key wedged into it. He pulled out the key and then opened his wardrobe. On the bottom surface he pushed aside to shirts revealing a key hole. He shoved the key in and turned it three hundred sixty degrees clockwise and he heard a metallic click as the surface unlocked and fell on its hinge to a secret cellar. The room was decaying and the wooden floor was starting to rot. On the far wall there was an armor stand and a sword rack. Baldin strided to the wall and lifted an leather laced iron chestplate, bearskin pants, fur boots, and an iron helmet. He then lifted his trusty iron broadsword from its pedestal came back through the secret entrance and out onto his doorstep where the knights awaited him.

“I am ready, who shall accompany me on this journey?”

“Galimire and his company”

“Which is…”

“Eight men in total”

“Seems fair, where shall we meet them?”

“A day ride on horseback South of the back entrance to the goblin caverns”

The ride to the meeting point was fairly short and sunny with bright green grass sprinkled with dew and grasshoppers. There were a fair amount of ladybugs in the air along with friendly flies and pollinating bees.The ride to the meeting point was quick only stopping three times, twice to eat and once to sleep. They had gone past the hills to the East and had gone around the mountains to where the entrance would be near. The opening on the mountainside was big enough for a single file march which led to a large opening where there would be a series of mineshafts going deeper into the mountain. When they arrived Galimire was already there along with his men. They had come with an extra horse for Baldin with food strapped to the sides of their saddles.

“It has been a long time since Baldin”

“Indeed, indeed, who are these men?

“This is Lankshin, a fine swordsman who specializes in stealth.”

A short slim guy stood behind him with very little hair and a well trimmed beard.

“Now that is Nellion.”

Galimire pointed at a tall, fat, long-bearded barbarian looking fellow with a double edged battle axe slung on his back. Next was Warkin a tall slim man equipped with two daggers. He was wearing a blue cloak and a long brown mustache that looked like a foxs tail.

“This is Branglut”

“Hello!” said Branglut merrily.

Branglut looked old and his leather fur lined jacket was tattered and a little torn in some places. He was short and thin with a long wispy white beard but despite his age he seemed to trot along quite quickly.
A medium sized man with wide a smile and a short fitting beard then stepped up in front of Galimire eager to be introduced It was Ralley a happy hearted person holding a rusty sword and wearing chainmail body armor. Lasty there was Swandle who seemed to be worried and scared of the upcoming journey. He had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulders. He was tall and skinny almost under fed.
Before the group of Latiosan warriors and the battle hardened fighter was what had been a flat moist grassland with lots of simple creatures that would graze on grass and birds that would just fly and perch on scattered trees. But before them was a water ridden swamp land with black crows circling the land and frogs which croak like creaking doors. This would definitely slow down their journey. Baldin said farewell, saddled his horse, and jumped on.

It was early morning as they rode towards the edge of the mountain trying to stay on patches of land the was less submerged. When the was a vast section of marsh they would get of their horses and then attach a lead to the animals breast armor. One day the crows were circling the group and all the sudden started diving out of the sky at them. One by one them would come crashing upon our armor leaving tiny dents, their strong beaks hardly affected.

“Take arms!”

The men drew their shields and unsheathed their swords. Some took out bows and quiver with arrows. The group let the crows come down like darts then rose their shield in front of them. The birds smashed upon their shields and then would be stabbed with their swords. One of the crows had dodged a shield a blew straight the surprised Latiosan. The bird swiveled around and darted into the man’s back. He fell to the ground from the crushing blow. The crow then flew to an abandoned horse and started picking at the contents of it’s food pouch.
The crows were after the food. Baldin ran over to the fallen warrior, named Swandle and checked his pulse, he was dead. He took his bow and quiver and pulled back the string and the wooden beam bended with the arrow prepared for release. Baldin let go after aiming at one of the many crows circling the Latiosans. The arrow went shy of the bird to its right and hit a different crow behind it. Three birds dove at Galimire and hit his shield but Galimire fell under the force. Baldin ran to his assistance and swung his sword at the birds. He hit one and another flew away, the last was on the tip of Galimire’s sword trying to peck at his face. Baldin threw his sword at the crow right as it dropped it’s head down for another peck. The sword went through the side if it’s body and Galimire stood up.

“Thank you!”

“Anytime” Baldin replied.


Later they buried Swandle and moved on, forcing their sorrows out of their head. Baldin almost to leave their quest there and then fore he was wondering if the goblins deserved this and what if more men died, how would they continue? There was a smell of despair in the air that seemed to overwhelm the human mind and send it into insanity. It was so powerful, convincing you of the craziest things without saying a word. Later that day we set up camp unpacking our packs of thick wools blankets and started a fire. We took rocks and hit them together and caught their sparks in a bed of leaves that quickly lit on fire due to their fragile and thin body. Dry branches and twigs from dying trees provided fuel for this homely creation. The fire gave warmth to the groups bodies and cheered the group up. It was all for nothing though for later that night wolves howled on top the mountains and the wind carried their sound straight to their ears and that gave them fear for what would come to them tomorrow, the next part of their journeys.

“Please, have mercy!”

The warriors woke up, no energy in their body, wishing to go back to an ever so pleasant dream;but what was that noise? The same voice kept being heard in the distance.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please have mercy!”

The men looked around searching for the source of such words. The voice was becoming distant. The echo rebounding of the mountain side to make the sound seem like it was coming from a different direction. Their sleepy heads were not processing quickly.

“I found it!”

Whatever it was it was running away from them in armor a sword held loose by the its left hand. Then Galimire counted the number of men and noticed there were two extra horses. One was Swandle’s and the other was...Ralleys!

“Please, the smell, No! Not that smell! Aaaaaahh!”

The man running dropped to the ground, as if something had knocked him unconscious. The smell? The...smell, oh! Galimire gasped, it was that dreadful brain rotting smell that drove you crazy. He had gone mad in his sleep. The poor man. More food he figured. Baldin then was certain he wanted to turn back his heart pumping at an astonishing rate. He turned and started walking on to see to his horror a goblin standing behind him.

“Galimire behind us!”

The group turned around. There was now an army of goblins hundreds of goblins maybe a thousand that seemed to have come in the night as the men were sleeping. There was a front most group of melee armed goblins and a separate lot of archers more than fifty feet behind them, their bow strings stretched an arrow ready to be fired.The warriors dropped their weapons knowing their chances of winning such a battle. The goblin in the front of the army raised a long, bended, and broken finger pointing at the six men.

“You!” the goblin snarled.

Then Baldin looked at the finger again it was pointing straight at Galimire.

“Galimire? What?”

Galimire look up at Baldin embarrassed.

“I’m sorry”

He took a step forward towards the goblins then another and another and another.
The goblin with his finger outstretched then lowered his hand and unsheathed his sword. He put it to Galimire and chopped off his head.

“That nasty human, we never killed his king, he died of old age.

“What?!”

“So thats why Nasten died, we killed him after a deserved battle for revenge. Galimire then decided he would bring along some company to kill me, the goblin king, for revenge!”

And that I am afraid was the journey and in the end the men made truce with the goblins and Baldin returned to the hills. Happy and content he was for the days to follow were merry.








The End