A GOBLIN’S VICTORY
Nargrid sat at one end of the table. Twegril sat in the middle and Snackril was seated at the other end facing the senior priest. The table wasn’t undersized measuring six feet long and nearly four feet in width but it seemed too small to Snackril as he looked at Nargrid with poorly concealed distaste.
Snackril wanted to disagree with Nargrid but the head priest had a good point. He again attempted to listen to what Nargrid was saying and finally achieved his focus as Nargrid was finishing his spiel.
“…and so we have come together, be sure to write this down Twegril, to write the policies for the followers of Fearsome Pewttar…”
“No, that’s not the right word, now…”
“What’s not the right…”
“Policies. It’s not a good word.” And with that Twegril slammed the flat of his hand down on the table.
Both Nargrid and Snackril looked at the usually quiet and timorous Twegril with some incredulity. Nargrid cocked his head while Snackril waited to see what would happen.
“And do you have a better word?” asked Nargrid too quietly.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice the change in Nargrid so deep in thought was he.
“Weell,” began Twegril, “after some thought I think maybe commandments conveys the meaning better.”
“Hah, I like guidelines better,” said Snackril. “Guidelines for our association. Every association has guidelines and ours should be no different.”
“Point taken but a command from GOD has the sense of the inviolate and…”
“What was that, inviolet? Isn’t that some kind of color?” Then Nargrid lowered his voice, “isn’t that what the cross-hatchers like, this inviolet color?”
“No that’s virulent, they like the color virulent,” said Snackril nodding his head knowingly.
Twegril thought to himself if these two could keep from butchering the captives to eat just an arm or leg and cut off what they needed they would be able to learn from the elves and humans as he had. His sigh was inaudible.
“Weell, that’s viol…why don’t we start on the items directly and discuss what they’ll be called later.”
Before Nargrid could oppose this Snackril banged his fist on the table and announced, “I accept that motion as secondary.” Snackril glared at Nargrid triumphantly.
“What’s that you say? You’re agreeing with this wimp?’ and Nargrid banged his fist on the table.
“Ha, that’s a little you know, ha ha,” and Snackril pounded both fists on the table. He really detested the senior priest.
“Weell, what was the first thing we had agreed to discuss?” asked Twegril. He quietly placed his hands on the table in front of him. The lack of a resonating explosion spoke the loudest yet.
“Ha to you Snacky. We didn’t agree to discuss the first item only to talk about it.” said Nargrid. He banged his fists on the table but it seemed contrived and so, lacked importance. He looked hard at Twegril though the lesser priest didn’t seem to notice he one upped his senior priest.
With hands still on the table Twegril said, “I think I remember something about no falsehoods…”
“Lying,” interrupted Nargrid. “That’s right we were dis…talking about lying. When it was okay and when it wasn’t so good.” He carefully placed his palms on the table.
Snackril hated to say it but he kind of agreed with Nargrid’s sentiments on this one. “Yes, I think that lying to women would be alright.” Snackril nodded in Nargrid’s direction.
“Weell, what women?”
“Why, ahm, any woman,” was all Snackril could muster.
Twegril looked over to Nargrid. “What would your first wife do if you lied to her?”
Nargrid hemmed and hawed. They all knew his primary would slit his throat in the middle of the night. It gave meaning to the term ‘dead of night.’ Nargrid hadn’t found any words for a retort but he was thinking furiously.
Twegril then turned to Snackril and asked the same question. Snackril looked pensive which was such an uncommon sight the other priests were uncommonly quiet.
Finally Snackril stated, “maybe just the secondary wives we could lie to. Our primes would enforce it and protect us as we slept.”
Nargrid glared at Snackril for this wise counsel. He wished he had thought of it though he was still thinking of a rejoinder to the earlier question. He then fixed a hard stare at Twegril for asking the question in the first place.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice and spoke, “who do we have to lie to anyone?”
The other priests’ jaws dropped. “what did you say?” they said in unison.
“Weell, why is it okay to lie some of the time and not at other times?” both Snackril and Nargrid exchanged a look of mild astonishment as each thought, ‘I should kill this asshole.’
But Snackril was first to turn his attention back to Twegril, “you have a mighty innerestin’ point there, you do, I’d say. Very inlightened and progressing.”
Nargrid could sense he was being outflanked and banged his fist on the table. Neither of the other two priests took notice.
Snackril patted Twegril on the shoulder. He loudly proclaimed, “the more I refract on it the more I see the smart…”
“Hey,” and Nargrid’s nares got large and his yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m the senior here and I have final decidin’ and I decide that we go to the next item. And that’s um…”
“Killing. We have to decide who it’s okay to kill and who it’s not okay.”
“Yeah, what’s your thinkin’ on killing, Twegril?” All knew Nargrid was baiting the lowliest priest.
“Weell, we for certain shouldn’t make a law that it’s okay to kill our primes.” And the other priests nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. For the moment the antipathy toward Twegril was forgotten. Especially when Twegril continued, “humans and elves we should kill.” Again two heads nodded.
“Minotaurs, how ‘bout Minotaurs?” voiced Snackril. As Twegril pondered Nargrid resumed his hatefulness toward the second priest.
“Weell, I don’t think the Minotaurs would like that if we made that part of our association’s laws.”
“Yeah? And what do we care what those cowmen think?” Nargrid was starting to get defensive as he felt his authority slipping away.
“We might need them if we hope to kill all the elves and dragoneers,” said Twegril quietly.
“He, we know you wouldn’t kill them, Twiggy,” and Nargrid playfully punched the tertiary priest hard in the arm and none there thought he was being playful.
“But don’t worry, the Fearsome Pewttarid will make HIMSELF known to me HIS wishes. Just like before.” The senior priest lied.
“So you think HE’ll talk to you more than me?” an angry Snackril bawled. “You getting too big for your white robe. And why should we wear white?”
“Our GOD likes white.” He lied.
“So who told you anyhow?”
“The Fearing Pewttarid told me.” Nargrid placed his hands quietly on the table. “HE told me HE’ll only talk through the senior priest.” He lied.
“Is that right? Only the senior priest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Only me, HE has my ear.”
Snackril turned to Twegril. He rose in his chair a little to place his left hand on the third priest’s shoulder while keeping his right elbow resting on the table as his hand strayed to his belt.
“And what do you think Twiggy?”
“Weell, I follow what our GOD says.” He did not lie.
“And do you think the Fearless Pewttarid talks to the senior priest more than other priests?”
“It is the will of GOD to talk to whoever HE wants to.” Nargrid’s nod was exaggerated. His hands were still on the table and he appeared to be praying.
“And if HE talks to the senior priest we should obey?”
“We should always obey the words of GOD.” To Twegril this was not a lie.
Nargrid nodded deeply, barely concealing his broadening smile. He wondered if for the sake of the others he should try harder to hide his pleasure in gaining a new found ally.
Snackril was now standing next to Twegril the thumb of his right hand hooked in his belt. “The senior priest?”
“Obey the will of GOD.” Nargrid had to lower his head or he would have burst out laughing.
“You sure Twiggy?”
“Obey the will of GOD.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
Nargrid for a brief moment felt exhilaration at his triumph. The elation ended abruptly with a surprising mild bit of pain in his chest. He looked down at the source of the pain and saw Snackril’s thumb and forefinger against his breast. He looked closer as he wondered at this rather bizarre gesture than realized Snackril’s fist enclosed a knife hilt. Nargrid didn’t see the blade and understood it was embe dded six inches inside him. This thought lasted but a moment. For the next moment he was dead.
Snackril lying crosswise and prone on the table started to laugh and bellow his victory chant. He was very pleased with himself. Oddly, he began to cough and was having a hard time catching his breath. He heard the victory chant though it didn’t seem to be coming from him. He was feeling a little dizzy.
Snackril thought he should get off the table and take his rightful place as the senior priest but his limbs weren’t responding. A smell of copper assailed his nose and his hearing was oddly acute and would that damn victory song stop!
He recognized it must be his good friend Twegril singing and wasn’t that awfully nice of Twiggy to sing the victory song for him though he was getting the words wrong.
‘And would someone clean up this mess on the table. It’s sticky and I’m the senior priest and I should sleep on a clean table, shouldn’t I?’
He tried to tell his junior priest to get someone to clean up this goo. He now could see the goo was blood. The blood of his enemy! Ha ha ha ah. But why was this blood under his chin and not at the head of the table? ‘Well, I’ll worry about it later. I think I’ll sleep now.’
When Twegril finished his victory song he wiped his dripping knife blade on dead Snackril’s robe. He rather liked the contrast of the gray coagulating blood set against the white robe and wondered if his GOD did as well.
The parchment was still near him and he placed it before him. With the stylus which had fallen on the floor when Snackril leapt at Nargrid he dipped it in the blood and began…
1st law: thou shall not kill…and he poised his pen in reflection. He looked at the dead priests for a few moments then finished the commandment…the senior priest.
The End
A GOBLIN’S VICTORY
Nargrid sat at one end of the table. Twegril sat in the middle and Snackril was seated at the other end facing the senior priest. The table wasn’t undersized measuring six feet long and nearly four feet in width but it seemed too small to Snackril as he looked at Nargrid with poorly concealed distaste.
Snackril wanted to disagree with Nargrid but the head priest had a good point. He again attempted to listen to what Nargrid was saying and finally achieved his focus as Nargrid was finishing his spiel.
“…and so we have come together, be sure to write this down Twegril, to write the policies for the followers of Fearsome Pewttar…”
“No, that’s not the right word, now…”
“What’s not the right…”
“Policies. It’s not a good word.” And with that Twegril slammed the flat of his hand down on the table.
Both Nargrid and Snackril looked at the usually quiet and timorous Twegril with some incredulity. Nargrid cocked his head while Snackril waited to see what would happen.
“And do you have a better word?” asked Nargrid too quietly.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice the change in Nargrid so deep in thought was he.
“Weell,” began Twegril, “after some thought I think maybe commandments conveys the meaning better.”
“Hah, I like guidelines better,” said Snackril. “Guidelines for our association. Every association has guidelines and ours should be no different.”
“Point taken but a command from GOD has the sense of the inviolate and…”
“What was that, inviolet? Isn’t that some kind of color?” Then Nargrid lowered his voice, “isn’t that what the cross-hatchers like, this inviolet color?”
“No that’s virulent, they like the color virulent,” said Snackril nodding his head knowingly.
Twegril thought to himself if these two could keep from butchering the captives to eat just an arm or leg and cut off what they needed they would be able to learn from the elves and humans as he had. His sigh was inaudible.
“Weell, that’s viol…why don’t we start on the items directly and discuss what they’ll be called later.”
Before Nargrid could oppose this Snackril banged his fist on the table and announced, “I accept that motion as secondary.” Snackril glared at Nargrid triumphantly.
“What’s that you say? You’re agreeing with this wimp?’ and Nargrid banged his fist on the table.
“Ha, that’s a little you know, ha ha,” and Snackril pounded both fists on the table. He really detested the senior priest.
“Weell, what was the first thing we had agreed to discuss?” asked Twegril. He quietly placed his hands on the table in front of him. The lack of a resonating explosion spoke the loudest yet.
“Ha to you Snacky. We didn’t agree to discuss the first item only to talk about it.” said Nargrid. He banged his fists on the table but it seemed contrived and so, lacked importance. He looked hard at Twegril though the lesser priest didn’t seem to notice he one upped his senior priest.
With hands still on the table Twegril said, “I think I remember something about no falsehoods…”
“Lying,” interrupted Nargrid. “That’s right we were dis…talking about lying. When it was okay and when it wasn’t so good.” He carefully placed his palms on the table.
Snackril hated to say it but he kind of agreed with Nargrid’s sentiments on this one. “Yes, I think that lying to women would be alright.” Snackril nodded in Nargrid’s direction.
“Weell, what women?”
“Why, ahm, any woman,” was all Snackril could muster.
Twegril looked over to Nargrid. “What would your first wife do if you lied to her?”
Nargrid hemmed and hawed. They all knew his primary would slit his throat in the middle of the night. It gave meaning to the term ‘dead of night.’ Nargrid hadn’t found any words for a retort but he was thinking furiously.
Twegril then turned to Snackril and asked the same question. Snackril looked pensive which was such an uncommon sight the other priests were uncommonly quiet.
Finally Snackril stated, “maybe just the secondary wives we could lie to. Our primes would enforce it and protect us as we slept.”
Nargrid glared at Snackril for this wise counsel. He wished he had thought of it though he was still thinking of a rejoinder to the earlier question. He then fixed a hard stare at Twegril for asking the question in the first place.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice and spoke, “who do we have to lie to anyone?”
The other priests’ jaws dropped. “what did you say?” they said in unison.
“Weell, why is it okay to lie some of the time and not at other times?” both Snackril and Nargrid exchanged a look of mild astonishment as each thought, ‘I should kill this asshole.’
But Snackril was first to turn his attention back to Twegril, “you have a mighty innerestin’ point there, you do, I’d say. Very inlightened and progressing.”
Nargrid could sense he was being outflanked and banged his fist on the table. Neither of the other two priests took notice.
Snackril patted Twegril on the shoulder. He loudly proclaimed, “the more I refract on it the more I see the smart…”
“Hey,” and Nargrid’s nares got large and his yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m the senior here and I have final decidin’ and I decide that we go to the next item. And that’s um…”
“Killing. We have to decide who it’s okay to kill and who it’s not okay.”
“Yeah, what’s your thinkin’ on killing, Twegril?” All knew Nargrid was baiting the lowliest priest.
“Weell, we for certain shouldn’t make a law that it’s okay to kill our primes.” And the other priests nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. For the moment the antipathy toward Twegril was forgotten. Especially when Twegril continued, “humans and elves we should kill.” Again two heads nodded.
“Minotaurs, how ‘bout Minotaurs?” voiced Snackril. As Twegril pondered Nargrid resumed his hatefulness toward the second priest.
“Weell, I don’t think the Minotaurs would like that if we made that part of our association’s laws.”
“Yeah? And what do we care what those cowmen think?” Nargrid was starting to get defensive as he felt his authority slipping away.
“We might need them if we hope to kill all the elves and dragoneers,” said Twegril quietly.
“He, we know you wouldn’t kill them, Twiggy,” and Nargrid playfully punched the tertiary priest hard in the arm and none there thought he was being playful.
“But don’t worry, the Fearsome Pewttarid will make HIMSELF known to me HIS wishes. Just like before.” The senior priest lied.
“So you think HE’ll talk to you more than me?” an angry Snackril bawled. “You getting too big for your white robe. And why should we wear white?”
“Our GOD likes white.” He lied.
“So who told you anyhow?”
“The Fearing Pewttarid told me.” Nargrid placed his hands quietly on the table. “HE told me HE’ll only talk through the senior priest.” He lied.
“Is that right? Only the senior priest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Only me, HE has my ear.”
Snackril turned to Twegril. He rose in his chair a little to place his left hand on the third priest’s shoulder while keeping his right elbow resting on the table as his hand strayed to his belt.
“And what do you think Twiggy?”
“Weell, I follow what our GOD says.” He did not lie.
“And do you think the Fearless Pewttarid talks to the senior priest more than other priests?”
“It is the will of GOD to talk to whoever HE wants to.” Nargrid’s nod was exaggerated. His hands were still on the table and he appeared to be praying.
“And if HE talks to the senior priest we should obey?”
“We should always obey the words of GOD.” To Twegril this was not a lie.
Nargrid nodded deeply, barely concealing his broadening smile. He wondered if for the sake of the others he should try harder to hide his pleasure in gaining a new found ally.
Snackril was now standing next to Twegril the thumb of his right hand hooked in his belt. “The senior priest?”
“Obey the will of GOD.” Nargrid had to lower his head or he would have burst out laughing.
“You sure Twiggy?”
“Obey the will of GOD.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
Nargrid for a brief moment felt exhilaration at his triumph. The elation ended abruptly with a surprising mild bit of pain in his chest. He looked down at the source of the pain and saw Snackril’s thumb and forefinger against his breast. He looked closer as he wondered at this rather bizarre gesture than realized Snackril’s fist enclosed a knife hilt. Nargrid didn’t see the blade and understood it was embe dded six inches inside him. This thought lasted but a moment. For the next moment he was dead.
Snackril lying crosswise and prone on the table started to laugh and bellow his victory chant. He was very pleased with himself. Oddly, he began to cough and was having a hard time catching his breath. He heard the victory chant though it didn’t seem to be coming from him. He was feeling a little dizzy.
Snackril thought he should get off the table and take his rightful place as the senior priest but his limbs weren’t responding. A smell of copper assailed his nose and his hearing was oddly acute and would that damn victory song stop!
He recognized it must be his good friend Twegril singing and wasn’t that awfully nice of Twiggy to sing the victory song for him though he was getting the words wrong.
‘And would someone clean up this mess on the table. It’s sticky and I’m the senior priest and I should sleep on a clean table, shouldn’t I?’
He tried to tell his junior priest to get someone to clean up this goo. He now could see the goo was blood. The blood of his enemy! Ha ha ha ah. But why was this blood under his chin and not at the head of the table? ‘Well, I’ll worry about it later. I think I’ll sleep now.’
When Twegril finished his victory song he wiped his dripping knife blade on dead Snackril’s robe. He rather liked the contrast of the gray coagulating blood set against the white robe and wondered if his GOD did as well.
The parchment was still near him and he placed it before him. With the stylus which had fallen on the floor when Snackril leapt at Nargrid he dipped it in the blood and began…
1st law: thou shall not kill…and he poised his pen in reflection. He looked at the dead priests for a few moments then finished the commandment…the senior priest.
The End
A GOBLIN’S VICTORY
Nargrid sat at one end of the table. Twegril sat in the middle and Snackril was seated at the other end facing the senior priest. The table wasn’t undersized measuring six feet long and nearly four feet in width but it seemed too small to Snackril as he looked at Nargrid with poorly concealed distaste.
Snackril wanted to disagree with Nargrid but the head priest had a good point. He again attempted to listen to what Nargrid was saying and finally achieved his focus as Nargrid was finishing his spiel.
“…and so we have come together, be sure to write this down Twegril, to write the policies for the followers of Fearsome Pewttar…”
“No, that’s not the right word, now…”
“What’s not the right…”
“Policies. It’s not a good word.” And with that Twegril slammed the flat of his hand down on the table.
Both Nargrid and Snackril looked at the usually quiet and timorous Twegril with some incredulity. Nargrid cocked his head while Snackril waited to see what would happen.
“And do you have a better word?” asked Nargrid too quietly.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice the change in Nargrid so deep in thought was he.
“Weell,” began Twegril, “after some thought I think maybe commandments conveys the meaning better.”
“Hah, I like guidelines better,” said Snackril. “Guidelines for our association. Every association has guidelines and ours should be no different.”
“Point taken but a command from GOD has the sense of the inviolate and…”
“What was that, inviolet? Isn’t that some kind of color?” Then Nargrid lowered his voice, “isn’t that what the cross-hatchers like, this inviolet color?”
“No that’s virulent, they like the color virulent,” said Snackril nodding his head knowingly.
Twegril thought to himself if these two could keep from butchering the captives to eat just an arm or leg and cut off what they needed they would be able to learn from the elves and humans as he had. His sigh was inaudible.
“Weell, that’s viol…why don’t we start on the items directly and discuss what they’ll be called later.”
Before Nargrid could oppose this Snackril banged his fist on the table and announced, “I accept that motion as secondary.” Snackril glared at Nargrid triumphantly.
“What’s that you say? You’re agreeing with this wimp?’ and Nargrid banged his fist on the table.
“Ha, that’s a little you know, ha ha,” and Snackril pounded both fists on the table. He really detested the senior priest.
“Weell, what was the first thing we had agreed to discuss?” asked Twegril. He quietly placed his hands on the table in front of him. The lack of a resonating explosion spoke the loudest yet.
“Ha to you Snacky. We didn’t agree to discuss the first item only to talk about it.” said Nargrid. He banged his fists on the table but it seemed contrived and so, lacked importance. He looked hard at Twegril though the lesser priest didn’t seem to notice he one upped his senior priest.
With hands still on the table Twegril said, “I think I remember something about no falsehoods…”
“Lying,” interrupted Nargrid. “That’s right we were dis…talking about lying. When it was okay and when it wasn’t so good.” He carefully placed his palms on the table.
Snackril hated to say it but he kind of agreed with Nargrid’s sentiments on this one. “Yes, I think that lying to women would be alright.” Snackril nodded in Nargrid’s direction.
“Weell, what women?”
“Why, ahm, any woman,” was all Snackril could muster.
Twegril looked over to Nargrid. “What would your first wife do if you lied to her?”
Nargrid hemmed and hawed. They all knew his primary would slit his throat in the middle of the night. It gave meaning to the term ‘dead of night.’ Nargrid hadn’t found any words for a retort but he was thinking furiously.
Twegril then turned to Snackril and asked the same question. Snackril looked pensive which was such an uncommon sight the other priests were uncommonly quiet.
Finally Snackril stated, “maybe just the secondary wives we could lie to. Our primes would enforce it and protect us as we slept.”
Nargrid glared at Snackril for this wise counsel. He wished he had thought of it though he was still thinking of a rejoinder to the earlier question. He then fixed a hard stare at Twegril for asking the question in the first place.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice and spoke, “who do we have to lie to anyone?”
The other priests’ jaws dropped. “what did you say?” they said in unison.
“Weell, why is it okay to lie some of the time and not at other times?” both Snackril and Nargrid exchanged a look of mild astonishment as each thought, ‘I should kill this asshole.’
But Snackril was first to turn his attention back to Twegril, “you have a mighty innerestin’ point there, you do, I’d say. Very inlightened and progressing.”
Nargrid could sense he was being outflanked and banged his fist on the table. Neither of the other two priests took notice.
Snackril patted Twegril on the shoulder. He loudly proclaimed, “the more I refract on it the more I see the smart…”
“Hey,” and Nargrid’s nares got large and his yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m the senior here and I have final decidin’ and I decide that we go to the next item. And that’s um…”
“Killing. We have to decide who it’s okay to kill and who it’s not okay.”
“Yeah, what’s your thinkin’ on killing, Twegril?” All knew Nargrid was baiting the lowliest priest.
“Weell, we for certain shouldn’t make a law that it’s okay to kill our primes.” And the other priests nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. For the moment the antipathy toward Twegril was forgotten. Especially when Twegril continued, “humans and elves we should kill.” Again two heads nodded.
“Minotaurs, how ‘bout Minotaurs?” voiced Snackril. As Twegril pondered Nargrid resumed his hatefulness toward the second priest.
“Weell, I don’t think the Minotaurs would like that if we made that part of our association’s laws.”
“Yeah? And what do we care what those cowmen think?” Nargrid was starting to get defensive as he felt his authority slipping away.
“We might need them if we hope to kill all the elves and dragoneers,” said Twegril quietly.
“He, we know you wouldn’t kill them, Twiggy,” and Nargrid playfully punched the tertiary priest hard in the arm and none there thought he was being playful.
“But don’t worry, the Fearsome Pewttarid will make HIMSELF known to me HIS wishes. Just like before.” The senior priest lied.
“So you think HE’ll talk to you more than me?” an angry Snackril bawled. “You getting too big for your white robe. And why should we wear white?”
“Our GOD likes white.” He lied.
“So who told you anyhow?”
“The Fearing Pewttarid told me.” Nargrid placed his hands quietly on the table. “HE told me HE’ll only talk through the senior priest.” He lied.
“Is that right? Only the senior priest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Only me, HE has my ear.”
Snackril turned to Twegril. He rose in his chair a little to place his left hand on the third priest’s shoulder while keeping his right elbow resting on the table as his hand strayed to his belt.
“And what do you think Twiggy?”
“Weell, I follow what our GOD says.” He did not lie.
“And do you think the Fearless Pewttarid talks to the senior priest more than other priests?”
“It is the will of GOD to talk to whoever HE wants to.” Nargrid’s nod was exaggerated. His hands were still on the table and he appeared to be praying.
“And if HE talks to the senior priest we should obey?”
“We should always obey the words of GOD.” To Twegril this was not a lie.
Nargrid nodded deeply, barely concealing his broadening smile. He wondered if for the sake of the others he should try harder to hide his pleasure in gaining a new found ally.
Snackril was now standing next to Twegril the thumb of his right hand hooked in his belt. “The senior priest?”
“Obey the will of GOD.” Nargrid had to lower his head or he would have burst out laughing.
“You sure Twiggy?”
“Obey the will of GOD.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
Nargrid for a brief moment felt exhilaration at his triumph. The elation ended abruptly with a surprising mild bit of pain in his chest. He looked down at the source of the pain and saw Snackril’s thumb and forefinger against his breast. He looked closer as he wondered at this rather bizarre gesture than realized Snackril’s fist enclosed a knife hilt. Nargrid didn’t see the blade and understood it was embe dded six inches inside him. This thought lasted but a moment. For the next moment he was dead.
Snackril lying crosswise and prone on the table started to laugh and bellow his victory chant. He was very pleased with himself. Oddly, he began to cough and was having a hard time catching his breath. He heard the victory chant though it didn’t seem to be coming from him. He was feeling a little dizzy.
Snackril thought he should get off the table and take his rightful place as the senior priest but his limbs weren’t responding. A smell of copper assailed his nose and his hearing was oddly acute and would that damn victory song stop!
He recognized it must be his good friend Twegril singing and wasn’t that awfully nice of Twiggy to sing the victory song for him though he was getting the words wrong.
‘And would someone clean up this mess on the table. It’s sticky and I’m the senior priest and I should sleep on a clean table, shouldn’t I?’
He tried to tell his junior priest to get someone to clean up this goo. He now could see the goo was blood. The blood of his enemy! Ha ha ha ah. But why was this blood under his chin and not at the head of the table? ‘Well, I’ll worry about it later. I think I’ll sleep now.’
When Twegril finished his victory song he wiped his dripping knife blade on dead Snackril’s robe. He rather liked the contrast of the gray coagulating blood set against the white robe and wondered if his GOD did as well.
The parchment was still near him and he placed it before him. With the stylus which had fallen on the floor when Snackril leapt at Nargrid he dipped it in the blood and began…
1st law: thou shall not kill…and he poised his pen in reflection. He looked at the dead priests for a few moments then finished the commandment…the senior priest.
The End
A GOBLIN’S VICTORY
Nargrid sat at one end of the table. Twegril sat in the middle and Snackril was seated at the other end facing the senior priest. The table wasn’t undersized measuring six feet long and nearly four feet in width but it seemed too small to Snackril as he looked at Nargrid with poorly concealed distaste.
Snackril wanted to disagree with Nargrid but the head priest had a good point. He again attempted to listen to what Nargrid was saying and finally achieved his focus as Nargrid was finishing his spiel.
“…and so we have come together, be sure to write this down Twegril, to write the policies for the followers of Fearsome Pewttar…”
“No, that’s not the right word, now…”
“What’s not the right…”
“Policies. It’s not a good word.” And with that Twegril slammed the flat of his hand down on the table.
Both Nargrid and Snackril looked at the usually quiet and timorous Twegril with some incredulity. Nargrid cocked his head while Snackril waited to see what would happen.
“And do you have a better word?” asked Nargrid too quietly.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice the change in Nargrid so deep in thought was he.
“Weell,” began Twegril, “after some thought I think maybe commandments conveys the meaning better.”
“Hah, I like guidelines better,” said Snackril. “Guidelines for our association. Every association has guidelines and ours should be no different.”
“Point taken but a command from GOD has the sense of the inviolate and…”
“What was that, inviolet? Isn’t that some kind of color?” Then Nargrid lowered his voice, “isn’t that what the cross-hatchers like, this inviolet color?”
“No that’s virulent, they like the color virulent,” said Snackril nodding his head knowingly.
Twegril thought to himself if these two could keep from butchering the captives to eat just an arm or leg and cut off what they needed they would be able to learn from the elves and humans as he had. His sigh was inaudible.
“Weell, that’s viol…why don’t we start on the items directly and discuss what they’ll be called later.”
Before Nargrid could oppose this Snackril banged his fist on the table and announced, “I accept that motion as secondary.” Snackril glared at Nargrid triumphantly.
“What’s that you say? You’re agreeing with this wimp?’ and Nargrid banged his fist on the table.
“Ha, that’s a little you know, ha ha,” and Snackril pounded both fists on the table. He really detested the senior priest.
“Weell, what was the first thing we had agreed to discuss?” asked Twegril. He quietly placed his hands on the table in front of him. The lack of a resonating explosion spoke the loudest yet.
“Ha to you Snacky. We didn’t agree to discuss the first item only to talk about it.” said Nargrid. He banged his fists on the table but it seemed contrived and so, lacked importance. He looked hard at Twegril though the lesser priest didn’t seem to notice he one upped his senior priest.
With hands still on the table Twegril said, “I think I remember something about no falsehoods…”
“Lying,” interrupted Nargrid. “That’s right we were dis…talking about lying. When it was okay and when it wasn’t so good.” He carefully placed his palms on the table.
Snackril hated to say it but he kind of agreed with Nargrid’s sentiments on this one. “Yes, I think that lying to women would be alright.” Snackril nodded in Nargrid’s direction.
“Weell, what women?”
“Why, ahm, any woman,” was all Snackril could muster.
Twegril looked over to Nargrid. “What would your first wife do if you lied to her?”
Nargrid hemmed and hawed. They all knew his primary would slit his throat in the middle of the night. It gave meaning to the term ‘dead of night.’ Nargrid hadn’t found any words for a retort but he was thinking furiously.
Twegril then turned to Snackril and asked the same question. Snackril looked pensive which was such an uncommon sight the other priests were uncommonly quiet.
Finally Snackril stated, “maybe just the secondary wives we could lie to. Our primes would enforce it and protect us as we slept.”
Nargrid glared at Snackril for this wise counsel. He wished he had thought of it though he was still thinking of a rejoinder to the earlier question. He then fixed a hard stare at Twegril for asking the question in the first place.
Twegril didn’t seem to notice and spoke, “who do we have to lie to anyone?”
The other priests’ jaws dropped. “what did you say?” they said in unison.
“Weell, why is it okay to lie some of the time and not at other times?” both Snackril and Nargrid exchanged a look of mild astonishment as each thought, ‘I should kill this asshole.’
But Snackril was first to turn his attention back to Twegril, “you have a mighty innerestin’ point there, you do, I’d say. Very inlightened and progressing.”
Nargrid could sense he was being outflanked and banged his fist on the table. Neither of the other two priests took notice.
Snackril patted Twegril on the shoulder. He loudly proclaimed, “the more I refract on it the more I see the smart…”
“Hey,” and Nargrid’s nares got large and his yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m the senior here and I have final decidin’ and I decide that we go to the next item. And that’s um…”
“Killing. We have to decide who it’s okay to kill and who it’s not okay.”
“Yeah, what’s your thinkin’ on killing, Twegril?” All knew Nargrid was baiting the lowliest priest.
“Weell, we for certain shouldn’t make a law that it’s okay to kill our primes.” And the other priests nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. For the moment the antipathy toward Twegril was forgotten. Especially when Twegril continued, “humans and elves we should kill.” Again two heads nodded.
“Minotaurs, how ‘bout Minotaurs?” voiced Snackril. As Twegril pondered Nargrid resumed his hatefulness toward the second priest.
“Weell, I don’t think the Minotaurs would like that if we made that part of our association’s laws.”
“Yeah? And what do we care what those cowmen think?” Nargrid was starting to get defensive as he felt his authority slipping away.
“We might need them if we hope to kill all the elves and dragoneers,” said Twegril quietly.
“He, we know you wouldn’t kill them, Twiggy,” and Nargrid playfully punched the tertiary priest hard in the arm and none there thought he was being playful.
“But don’t worry, the Fearsome Pewttarid will make HIMSELF known to me HIS wishes. Just like before.” The senior priest lied.
“So you think HE’ll talk to you more than me?” an angry Snackril bawled. “You getting too big for your white robe. And why should we wear white?”
“Our GOD likes white.” He lied.
“So who told you anyhow?”
“The Fearing Pewttarid told me.” Nargrid placed his hands quietly on the table. “HE told me HE’ll only talk through the senior priest.” He lied.
“Is that right? Only the senior priest, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Only me, HE has my ear.”
Snackril turned to Twegril. He rose in his chair a little to place his left hand on the third priest’s shoulder while keeping his right elbow resting on the table as his hand strayed to his belt.
“And what do you think Twiggy?”
“Weell, I follow what our GOD says.” He did not lie.
“And do you think the Fearless Pewttarid talks to the senior priest more than other priests?”
“It is the will of GOD to talk to whoever HE wants to.” Nargrid’s nod was exaggerated. His hands were still on the table and he appeared to be praying.
“And if HE talks to the senior priest we should obey?”
“We should always obey the words of GOD.” To Twegril this was not a lie.
Nargrid nodded deeply, barely concealing his broadening smile. He wondered if for the sake of the others he should try harder to hide his pleasure in gaining a new found ally.
Snackril was now standing next to Twegril the thumb of his right hand hooked in his belt. “The senior priest?”
“Obey the will of GOD.” Nargrid had to lower his head or he would have burst out laughing.
“You sure Twiggy?”
“Obey the will of GOD.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
Nargrid for a brief moment felt exhilaration at his triumph. The elation ended abruptly with a surprising mild bit of pain in his chest. He looked down at the source of the pain and saw Snackril’s thumb and forefinger against his breast. He looked closer as he wondered at this rather bizarre gesture than realized Snackril’s fist enclosed a knife hilt. Nargrid didn’t see the blade and understood it was embe dded six inches inside him. This thought lasted but a moment. For the next moment he was dead.
Snackril lying crosswise and prone on the table started to laugh and bellow his victory chant. He was very pleased with himself. Oddly, he began to cough and was having a hard time catching his breath. He heard the victory chant though it didn’t seem to be coming from him. He was feeling a little dizzy.
Snackril thought he should get off the table and take his rightful place as the senior priest but his limbs weren’t responding. A smell of copper assailed his nose and his hearing was oddly acute and would that damn victory song stop!
He recognized it must be his good friend Twegril singing and wasn’t that awfully nice of Twiggy to sing the victory song for him though he was getting the words wrong.
‘And would someone clean up this mess on the table. It’s sticky and I’m the senior priest and I should sleep on a clean table, shouldn’t I?’
He tried to tell his junior priest to get someone to clean up this goo. He now could see the goo was blood. The blood of his enemy! Ha ha ha ah. But why was this blood under his chin and not at the head of the table? ‘Well, I’ll worry about it later. I think I’ll sleep now.’
When Twegril finished his victory song he wiped his dripping knife blade on dead Snackril’s robe. He rather liked the contrast of the gray coagulating blood set against the white robe and wondered if his GOD did as well.
The parchment was still near him and he placed it before him. With the stylus which had fallen on the floor when Snackril leapt at Nargrid he dipped it in the blood and began…
1st law: thou shall not kill…and he poised his pen in reflection. He looked at the dead priests for a few moments then finished the commandment…the senior priest.
The End
