[Marten]: 478.Marten's Childhood

The small figure sleeping in the bed of moss stirred slightly, the tendrils of fog wisping about him with ethereal fingers. Nestled between the large and gnarled roots of an ancient oak, the green clad lump rolled over and flopped on his back, secure in the protection of the tree. In a dream a woman walked toward him, his mother, and yet not his own mother, who was at this moment no doubt at home. Her hair shone from silver to gold to platinum and back again. Her skin was softly radiant and her features were lovely. Her white gown was made of spiders silk and moonlight, flowing like the breeze on a summer night as she kneeled next to him and touched him. “It’s time to wake my darling prince.”

Sitting up and stretching with a cavernous yawn, the youngling blinked the sleep away and brushed long tousled red hair from his face. Smacking his lips and wincing, he stood up and touched his toes, rotated his body from side to side, and leaned back until he very nearly toppled onto his head. Considering himself exercised, he pulled his jerkin over his head and picked up his bow, walking out of the mist and into the wood. The strands of fog filled the void behind him, and he might never have been there.

*  *  *

Splashing water into his face and red hair, the small figure rubbed his cheeks vigorously, rinsing himself off yet again. He stood up, all four feet of him, and adjusted his green, sleeveless jerkin and picked up his bow. Turning to crawl out of the thicket that enveloped the stream at that point, he came into a bright clearing, quietly slipping past a mother doe and her fawn, smiling to himself at his own clever woodcraft.

The morning sun was newly risen and the dew was still fresh on the leaves as he walked along his familiar glades and tree groves. His feet made hardly a sound as he moved, and he encountered only birds and squirrels after the doe. As he moved on however, he was unaware of the figure following him furtively.

Goblins are as a general rule short, ugly, and clever little creatures. They live on roots and what little things they can catch or kill with short bows. Irlkit was one such goblin, and like many of his fellows, he was a compulsive thief. Following the small boy, he drew an arrow silently, nocking it against the string. The rough thing about short bows is that to actually kill anything with it, you must get close, within about ten or twenty yards. Goblins seem to have a natural talent for this however, and Irlkit crept closer and closer, since his quarry wasn’t in any hurry. Taking a step to assure his footing, he snapped a twig, and froze as the boy’s ears literally perked, and he turned to face the sound. Irlkit should have dived at that point, or ducked behind a tree, but he instead loosed his shaft. The target leaned to the side, letting the poorly aimed shot pass by him. Irlkit gaped, and fumbled with his bow, nocking another arrow hurriedly, even as his green clad opponent fitted an arrow of his own, and drew the fletchings back to his ear, looking for all the world like a little human terrier. Irlkit gave a small yelp and let off his shaft hastily, and it flew wide. He fitted his third shaft, but as he drew it, the little boy let fly his own, and the arrow’s tip neatly cut Irlkit’s bowstring, snapping him in the face. Irlkit had no chance to think before his would be victim was upon him, laying him about the head with his own bow.

Feeling he had sufficiently thrashed the poor sniveling goblin, the fiery haired archer jerked him up off the ground, fist raised and poised to pummel. Now some goblins can be quite bold, even daring, but Irlkit was a confirmed coward, and he grasped his head as if the figure that stood no taller than him would split his very skull in half.
“Good master, don’t slay me I pray!”
“I’m not going to slay you; I’m just going to beat you until you can’t stand up.”
“I’m sorry!” Irlkit let out a profoundly moving wail, and clutched at the little boy’s jerkin. Dropping to his knees and clasping his hands, he began to plead.
“Oh good master, I was but hungry, and thought to frighten you away, and steal some food from you.”

Copyright, Paul Martens, 2006