Goblin Diaries, Vol 32: Erin Discovers My Journal

 From the 06/19/2026 newsletter:

3^rd day of Ice Moon, 1219^th Year, Human Age of Magic …

I’m afraid I’ve grown a bit complacent as I’ve become more comfortable with my traveling companion. It seems I have allowed Erin to observe my journaling.

She is a creature of habit, a trait any goblin would find endearing, and after our evening meals, she always follows the same routine. She cleans up our cookware and eating utensils, packing them into a bundle in preparation for use at breakfast. Then she settles into a period of quiet introspection, almost brooding, before finally banking the fire and turning in for the night.

I can usually count on her falling asleep within minutes, and that is when I take the time to make these nightly entries in my journal, feeling safely unobserved. Apparently, that has not been the case.

As we were breaking camp this morning and packing up for travel, she asked me, out of the blue, “Did you use magic to catch those fish last night?”

I responded, almost without thinking, “No, we goblins are natural fisherfolk. I learned at an early age on my …” (I almost said, ‘home planet’.) “… um … where I grew up. We goblins are not magic wielders,” I added.

“I had heard that you weren’t,” she said. “Wielders of magic, that is. Yet I’ve seen you conjure that tablet you doodle on at night from thin air and make it disappear again when you’re finished.”

Her words caught me completely by surprise, and I could not think of a good lie. So, I told her as much of the truth as I could. “Oh, that tablet was made by the elves. It is … um … elven magic.”

“I see,” she responded.

I could see the wheels turning in her head as she absorbed my words, so I thought it best to guide the conversation in a direction that did not involve inquiry into my connection with elves. “I ran across the artifact some years ago. It’s a journal. There’s a phrase you say to make it appear, another to make it go away, and whatever I write in it is recorded, just as if it was written on paper. Marvelous, isn’t it? And convenient, for when you’re imprisoned by a warlock or if you’re attacked by hyenas and have your pack ripped to shreds and belongings destroyed.”

There was a hint of a smile as she nodded. “It would seem so.” Then she frowned. “But I sometimes wish the elves would keep their magical artifacts to themselves.”

I waited for her to comment further, but she didn’t. I felt it best to drop the subject.

But I have to admit, I totally agree with her.