Goblin Diaries, Vol 9: Holly's Landing

 (From the 03/14/24 and 04/18/24 newsletters ...)

1st Day of Winter Moon, 1218^th year, Human Age of Magic …

Holly’s Landing, named for the giantess Holly Trill who runs the inn and trading post there, is deemed the only safe place to dock along the stretch of the Wiste River that runs through the Forest of Baeth. Having met the alleged giantess—I suspect she is not at all what she seems—and having had a most disconcerting encounter there with the faerie Floreze, I would argue there is no safe place to spend the night in that Enchanted Forest.

The inn and trading post reside within a walled castle, which looms above the thick canopy of willows that line the western shore of the river. I think the purpose of the fortress is less for defense against an attack from the outside—the forest and river are sufficient barriers to an invasion, and there’s nothing much there to attract invaders—and more a means of keeping unwilling residents in.

The long dock extending into the river from the keep’s thick wooden gate is sufficient mooring for many vessels, but our cargo barge was the only one moored there during our entire stay. The captain would not let any of his crew stay overnight at the inn, and when I told him I’d planned to stay for several days, he regaled me with warnings and horror stories about men being lured into the forest never to be seen nor heard from again.

I now believe the stories—all of them.

When I carried my bags through the unguarded gates of the keep, I found the place deserted. Likewise, when I entered the inn, I found the only inhabitant was Holly Trill herself, who stood behind the concierge desk on the far side of an enormous dining room full of tables set for a feast but absolutely void of clientele. After paying in advance for a room and having my bags carted away by a slack-faced human who appeared out of nowhere, she persuaded me to bide my time before dinner by strolling through the gardens out back.

And that’s when it happened.

The gardens were lovely, but where they ended, at the edge of the forest, the pull was so strong that I found myself deep in the woods before I realized what had happened. It was faerie magic such as I’d never encountered, drawing me along a path that seemed to open before me and close behind. I don’t know how long I walked before I entered a clearing where an enchanting pool formed at the bottom of a lovely waterfall. And there, sitting on a rock and gazing into the crystal-clear water, was the most beautiful female goblin I had ever seen.

Thick reddish-brown eyebrows perfectly complimented the baggy folds around her wide brown eyes, and a matching ridge of curly hair crested the crown of her head. The tips of her ears didn’t rise to a point but had that unusual exotic droopy flap that always makes my heart race. Her mouth hung slightly open in surprise, revealing a perfect array of pointed teeth.

Of course, I knew she wasn’t real.

You see, we goblins are not slaves to our baser natures. We think with our brains, not our genitals, and it seems the faeries in the Forest of Baeth had forgotten that—or, perhaps they’ve been seducing humans for so long, now, that they know no other way—for, when I resisted the advances of a goblin who would never, never, behave in such a manner, she began to sprout gossamer wings and take her true form, the faerie Floreze herself.

She even tried to seduce me in her faerie form! My jaw is still sore from the evil creature’s caress.

We had it out right then and there. I accused her of flooding the black markets of Azurith and Zemburith with neleh berry wine—she didn’t deny it—and asked her to return Ka’il Idreth to the Protectorate. She denied any knowledge of the artifact, and I told her I knew she was lying, whereupon she disappeared in a huff, leaving me alone in the middle of the Enchanted Forest as the sun was about to set. I turned to retrace my steps to the inn, and the trail I’d followed into the forest was gone.

Luckily, I’d thought to bring a locator device, which guided me safely back to the inn, although I had to fight my way through gods-know-how-many pentags of dense undergrowth and arrived almost too late for dinner, scratched and bleeding.

I went straight to the captain and negotiated passage for as far down the river away from Holly’s Landing as he could take me. And I’m writing this journal entry from the safety of the deck of his cargo barge the next day.

I’m faced with a dilemma. I must distance myself from the Forest of Baeth and the almost certain revenge of Floreze, yet I cannot return to Azurith to face the wrath of the king there. I don’t want to accompany the captain all the way to Zemburith. That city is ruled by an evil warlock who calls himself Mazuom, and I shudder the think what I may encounter there.

Somehow, I must find a place to hide—at least for a while.