Maybe she was hallucinating from the poison in the goblin’s fruit, or perhaps there were no goblins at all, no goblin king either. She was really just tossing and turning in her bed, afflicted with the same illness that consumed her sister.
Her lower lip shuddered in preparation for speech, but she couldn't make her voice come out.
The pixie moved forward to speak again, but the green man held him back.
“Frightened,” she nodded at last. “Yes,” she drew herself upright and rested at a slant on her elbows. A sickening plop of fruit oozed down her back, and she shuddered with chills. “Very frightened.”
“Ah, so she does have a voice.” The green man grinned.
“Of course I have a voice, but I am not myself, you see.” Words felt strange in her mouth, as though her tongue was too fat and her brain turned to mush. “I am not thinking clearly at all, and I am not even sure that you are really there.”
The pixie’s laughter was sharp and sweet, but turned quickly into fitful hysterics.
“That is quite enough, Gwydion.”
Despite the pain in her head, Meredith sat up. “How do I know you’re not another hallucination? Some form of goblin treachery?”
“Now, I feel terribly insulted.” His laughter diminished. “As though I would affiliate with any type of goblin filth, even the hallucinatory type.” He turned toward his master. “I fear this trip was wasted and this mock-up of a damsel in distress is little more than a goblin herself, in disguise and waiting to strike.”
“I beg your pardon, sir!” she cried. “I am no goblin!”
“How can we be sure?”
“I could ask the same of you,” she retorted. “How do I know you’re not goblins?”
The pixie ascended to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. The slight curve of his spine indicated great pride and insult, but the fact that he barely met her chin and was splattered in mud caused Meredith to suppress her amusement.
“Well,” she huffed, “I don’t look like a goblin either.”
The green-skinned one had not stopped grinning since she’d spoken, Meredith noticed, and it was he who held a hand out and offered to help her stand.
“I think it’s safe to assume that none of us are goblin-kind.”
She studied his hand, the slender fingers and dirt blackening the area beneath his short fingernails. As his index finger twitched in impatience, she noticed the scars that decorated his skin and wondered just who… or what he was. She reached in and accepted his hand, and as he helped Meredith to her feet, she winced and moaned in agony with the stretch and flex of every muscle.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. “Now, if we are all agreed not to be goblins, I feel proper introductions are in order.” Still clutching her hand, he bowed dramatically low before her and said, “I am Him.”
“Him?”
“Him of the Green,” he elaborated as he came back up to meet her eyes. “At your service, milady.”
Having already suffered the offense of the little one by wondering if he were a goblin hallucination, Meredith felt she could not question the validity of a name like Him.
“And my noble companion and servant is Sir Gwydion Dale, ranger and goblin slayer.”
“Sir Dale,” Meredith gave in to a small curtsy. “I am Meredith, Meredith Drexler.”
“We are please to make your acquaintance, Lady Meredith, Meredith Drexler.” Him lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss atop her knuckles.
Before she could even linger on the gesture, or feel the low simmer of her blood, the pixie interjected. “Uplanders! What strange folk to name their children twice.”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Meredith, Meredith Drexler,” he repeated her name back to her. “Would it not have been more logical to name you Meredith only once? It seems rather redundant.”
“But they did name me Meredith only once.”
“You said...”
“Nevermind what she said,” Him interrupted.
Her lower lip shuddered in preparation for speech, but she couldn't make her voice come out.
The pixie moved forward to speak again, but the green man held him back.
“Frightened,” she nodded at last. “Yes,” she drew herself upright and rested at a slant on her elbows. A sickening plop of fruit oozed down her back, and she shuddered with chills. “Very frightened.”
“Ah, so she does have a voice.” The green man grinned.
“Of course I have a voice, but I am not myself, you see.” Words felt strange in her mouth, as though her tongue was too fat and her brain turned to mush. “I am not thinking clearly at all, and I am not even sure that you are really there.”
The pixie’s laughter was sharp and sweet, but turned quickly into fitful hysterics.
“That is quite enough, Gwydion.”
Despite the pain in her head, Meredith sat up. “How do I know you’re not another hallucination? Some form of goblin treachery?”
“Now, I feel terribly insulted.” His laughter diminished. “As though I would affiliate with any type of goblin filth, even the hallucinatory type.” He turned toward his master. “I fear this trip was wasted and this mock-up of a damsel in distress is little more than a goblin herself, in disguise and waiting to strike.”
“I beg your pardon, sir!” she cried. “I am no goblin!”
“How can we be sure?”
“I could ask the same of you,” she retorted. “How do I know you’re not goblins?”
The pixie ascended to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. The slight curve of his spine indicated great pride and insult, but the fact that he barely met her chin and was splattered in mud caused Meredith to suppress her amusement.
“Well,” she huffed, “I don’t look like a goblin either.”
The green-skinned one had not stopped grinning since she’d spoken, Meredith noticed, and it was he who held a hand out and offered to help her stand.
“I think it’s safe to assume that none of us are goblin-kind.”
She studied his hand, the slender fingers and dirt blackening the area beneath his short fingernails. As his index finger twitched in impatience, she noticed the scars that decorated his skin and wondered just who… or what he was. She reached in and accepted his hand, and as he helped Meredith to her feet, she winced and moaned in agony with the stretch and flex of every muscle.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. “Now, if we are all agreed not to be goblins, I feel proper introductions are in order.” Still clutching her hand, he bowed dramatically low before her and said, “I am Him.”
“Him?”
“Him of the Green,” he elaborated as he came back up to meet her eyes. “At your service, milady.”
Having already suffered the offense of the little one by wondering if he were a goblin hallucination, Meredith felt she could not question the validity of a name like Him.
“And my noble companion and servant is Sir Gwydion Dale, ranger and goblin slayer.”
“Sir Dale,” Meredith gave in to a small curtsy. “I am Meredith, Meredith Drexler.”
“We are please to make your acquaintance, Lady Meredith, Meredith Drexler.” Him lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss atop her knuckles.
Before she could even linger on the gesture, or feel the low simmer of her blood, the pixie interjected. “Uplanders! What strange folk to name their children twice.”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Meredith, Meredith Drexler,” he repeated her name back to her. “Would it not have been more logical to name you Meredith only once? It seems rather redundant.”
“But they did name me Meredith only once.”
“You said...”
“Nevermind what she said,” Him interrupted.
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