Goblin Diaries, Vol 29: The Dragon Pendant
From the 03/20/26 newsletter:
21st
Day of Snow Moon, 1219th Year, Human Age of Magic …
Today I did something that I’m a bit ashamed
of, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
Erin has been behaving more strangely each
day, and I’m worried that she is suffering from some sort of mental or
emotional illness. The crying episode I referred to in yesterday’s journal
entry recurred during the night and lasted until the light of dawn, when she
finally succumbed to sleep.
For that reason, I resisted the urge to
rouse her as the morning progressed and she remained wrapped in her blankets.
But when the sun began to beat down upon us from directly overhead, I felt
compelled to wake her up, lest we lose an entire day of travel time. When I
gave her shoulder a gentle shake, her eyelids fluttered open, and she fixed me
with a blank stare from dull green eyes rimmed in red.
“Erin, are you alright?” I asked.
The tone of her voice was void of
expression. “I’m wonderful.”
“It’s past noon,” I informed her.
“Great,” she moaned. “I suppose I should
get up.”
“I cooked some of the rice and lentils you
like,” I offered. “They’re still warm.”
“Great.”
“I’ll fix you a bowl if you like.”
“Thanks,” she said. But she didn’t sound
all that grateful—or enthused. And when she finally got up and plodded over to
the campfire, she took no more than two spoonfuls before spitting it out in
disgust and tossing the remains into the fire. “Ugh,” she complained, “there’s
only one person who could eat this stuff every day.”
I waited for her to elaborate. Instead,
she looked at the sun overhead and frowned. “We need something else to eat. We
won’t get very far today, anyway, with such a late start. I’m going hunting.”
And with that she gathered her crossbow and quiver of bolts and stalked off
into the woods.
I cleaned up her bowl and utensils—it was
unlike her not to do it herself—and doused the campfire. With nothing else to
do, I sat and pondered my situation. Missing a day of travel won’t kill us, I
suppose. But if Erin is on the verge of some mental breakdown, what should I
do? I could continue on alone, should push come to shove, but I don’t want to
abandon someone in need, especially one who has saved my life and whom I’ve
become quite fond of.
My attention was drawn to her pack, which
she had left open when she took her crossbow, and I thought I should close it
for her. I knew she had spices stored within, and if we were going to stay for
a while, it should be secured and hung up to prevent vermin getting into it. My
intentions were honorable, but when I went over to it curiosity got the better
of me.
I began to go through her things.
I know I shouldn’t have. But I thought,
maybe if I could find something that would give me a clue to her past,
something that could help me know her better, perhaps I could help her in some
way. And I ran across something that has engendered a plethora of questions in
my mind.
Tucked away in an inside pocket, I found a
beautiful silver pendant inlaid with a green gem—the same shade of green as her
eyes. The fact that she doesn’t wear it made me think perhaps it was stolen and
that’s why she was fleeing Zemburith. But what is etched into the silver
surrounding the stone so artfully dispelled that thought immediately.
The jewelry has to have been made for her,
for it depicts her likeness riding upon the back of a green dragon.
I know that humans have incredibly vivid
imaginations, but dragons are notoriously averse to being ridden. In fact, the
only one I’ve ever heard of who is rumored to have allowed such—who, indeed,
offered this very goblin a ride to seek out the mercenary Tsing in the Valley
of Kilaren, where Erin is allegedly taking me—is Pieter.
Pieter is a green dragon. I’ve seen him
take his true form, and the dragon etched into the pendant is as close a
likeness as could be rendered of the very one who set me upon my mission to
retrieve Ka’il Idreth from the faeries in the Forest of Baeth. Could Erin and
Pieter, in the strangest of coincidences, be connected? And how might I inquire
without revealing I’ve gone through her things?
Well, I see that she has returned from her
hunting, with several plump guineafowl slung over her shoulder. I must end this
entry now.
