The Narrator

How to start? How to start…?

Oh.

Perhaps this will work?

In the plains of Phixion, a lone individual walked down a dirt road eastward. A young fifteen-year-old boy with a skinny frame, blonde hair, and a thin scar across the bridge of his nose. When he was a child, his father had warned him to be careful in the blacksmith’s shop, but the boy didn’t heed his warning. One of the many tools fell and slashed across his nose. It was a superficial scar, but a noticeable one.

That boy’s name was Peter. He’d been given a task from his village to handle a horde of goblins which had stolen their cattle. They considered calling upon his father, but the boy was skilled in his own right and volunteered. A sword was made for him by the blacksmith in town, as well as a wooden shield and some loose armor. He said it would be all he’d need. He wore a necklace with a jade ring on it; a special keepsake of Peter.

But as the boy walked, he suddenly stopped and looked up at the dusk sky with a curious expression. There was nothing there. It was a cloudless day with no birds or anything else notable overhead. Yet the boy continued to peer upward as if looking for something. For longer than one might expect.

What’s he doing?

Peter winced before looking back down the road and continuing onward, the setting sun before him. Perhaps the boy was in deep thought about his mission.

Peter reached a rocky area with many warning signs posted out front. They were laid out by goblins, warning trespassers not to approach. The boy placed a hand on the hilt of his sword… but didn’t draw it from its sheathe as he entered the region. Nor did he ready his shield. This was odd, considering the goblins could attack at any moment. But perhaps the boy had a plan or was simply that confident in his skills. Maybe with the setting sun, he figured he’d be able to sneak in undetected.

He entered a canyon with cliff faces on each side of him. Peter was scanning the area for potential threats when he heard the bleating of sheep nearby. He turned a corner and saw a wooden pen with dozens of sheep locked inside. The village’s cattle. The boy had a prime opportunity to get the cattle out of there without any conflict.

But… the boy kept moving deeper into the goblin’s terrain. This was curious, but perhaps he knew that unless he eliminated the threat, those nefarious creatures would simply return and steal from his village yet again.

He journeyed further in until he reached a mouth of a cavern. As he did, several small green creatures standing as tall as his hip emerged from the cave. Many of them wielded bows; those that did docked their arrows at Peter.

The boy’s time had come. Surely, he would lash out and dispatch the cretins. But rather than arm himself, he raised his hands in surrender.

Surely just a gesture. It had to have been all part of his plan to eliminate them.

From the cavern emerged a pot-bellied goblin with a cigar in its mouth, surrounded by several others holding spears. The leader of their group. His skin had a darker green than the rest, and he wore a pelt jacket.

Perhaps that was the boy’s plan. Wait for their leader to come forward so he can eliminate him first.

The goblin belched smoke and said, “You better get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

Peter calmly replied, “I’m not here for a fight. I just want my village’s cattle back.”

“Well, that’s too bad.”

“What’s your name sir?” Peter asked in a respectful manner.

The goblin raised its brow and replied, “It’s uh, Degla.”

“Hi Degla! I’m Peter.” The boy replied with a smile. Surely it was some strategy to put the goblin off guard. “Look, there is a forest to the southwest of here rich with game. More than enough for all of you.”

“That’s human hunting ground…” Degla growled.

“If you enter the forest from far enough south, my village would have no idea you were there. You could hunt there.”

The series of goblins all aiming there bows at Peter murmured amongst themselves. Degla replied, “Why would we do that when we can take from you folk?”

Peter shrugged, “Sure, but eventually one of them is going to get angry and try to kill you all. You’re lucky they didn’t send my dad here today.”

Degla winced and took another puff of his cigar.

Peter began to lower his hands, “I could show you how to enter the forest without being noticed if you like. If you like what you see, you could turn our cattle back over to me then.”

Degla took the cigar from his mouth and nodded, “We’ll take a look. But we’ll need to have a successful hunt tonight.”

“You will.”

The sun had fully set when a legion of Degla’s goblins left their hideout with a wagon in tow, Peter accompanying them. He guided them through the plains through often untraveled terrain. The boy suggested a path to avoid any travelers, and to always leave at night.

But surely Peter was lulling them into a false sense of security. With their reduced numbers, Peter could eliminate all the goblins on his own, return to their hideout, and secure his village’s cattle.

Peter guided them to the forest, an area populated with several story tall trees and dense foliage. He had the goblins circle around to the back of the south before entering inside. He said the human hunters around these parts never ventured to this portion of the forest. It would be uncontested.

The cool air of the forest was familiar to Peter. He had traveled here with his father and the rest of village numerous times. The boy had managed a perfect shot on a quail with a bow in his first hunting session. Something his father never failed to praise him for.

The goblins raised their spears and bows as they entered the forest, many of them skeptical of the boys claim. But when a herd of deer frolicked past in the distance, they all shouted and scrambled in that direction. They waved their weapons over their heads in pursuit.

Peter and Degla took a seat by the wagon and waited. Before long, a few of the goblins had returned, dragging along the body of two deer. They tossed them onto the wagon and reported to their leader.

“Degla, I think if we go back in, we can hunt a few more tonight! Should we keep going?”

“I-I think so. We have plenty of night left.” Degla nodded.

With that, the goblin troupe stormed back into the forest to continue their hunt. Degla took another puff of his cigar and nodded to the boy, “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” Peter smiled.

“You’ll have your cattle returned to you. I think this will serve us nicely. A lot less risky too.”

“Just don’t overhunt the forest, okay?”

“O’course. O’course.”

“Do you mind if I stay with your group overnight? I’ll take the cattle back in the morning.”

“I’ll allow that,” Degla let out a breath of smoke. He reached into his pelt jacket, and pulled out an untouched cigar. He tilted it from his hand towards the young boy. “Want one?”

It was a laughable gesture. The boy would never do such an unsightly thing as smoking. He was far above such a thing as-

“Sure.” Peter replied simply, taking the cigar from Degla’s hand.

… He wouldn’t…

Degla helped light the cigar, and Peter took it from him. His first lungful caused him to cough. But he took a more measured breath in the second time. They leisurely sat against a tree as the other goblins continued their hunt.

Peter was a bright boy, but it seemed those goblins had managed to corrupt him in that short time. But with guidance, there was no doubt he’d get back on the right track.

Peter looked up into the bramble of branches and tree tops over him and grimaced. He looked up above for a time, narrowing his eyes for… whatever he was looking for.

Degla belched and asked, “You see something up there?”

“No. It’s nothing.”

The goblin’s completed their hunt and headed back to their hideout. Despite his better judgement, Peter slept among the nefarious horde.

In the morning, Degla honored their ‘agreement’, and handed the cattle over to Peter. The boy tied a rope around each of the animal’s horns, and guided them from the goblin horde westward, back towards his village.

Despite some unsavory decisions, the boy had done well. He managed to come to a peaceful resolution, hopefully it wouldn’t come back to haun-

“Hey… who’s talking?” The boy said while looking up at the sky. But no one was around, only he and the cattle. Perhaps smoking that cigar had made him delirious.

“I’m not delirious! Who are you?” Peter shouted.

The boy peered up at the clouds again. How strange it was.

“It’s stranger for you to keep rambling as if I can’t hear you!” Peter shouted.

…

You can hear me?

“Yes! You were rambling all day today and yesterday! Why’re you doing that?” Peter questioned.

Well, I suppose I am the narrator of the story you find yourself in. And now that I know you can hear, you really should stay away from those cigars. They’re bad for your health young man.

“Who are you, my dad?” Peter snapped back, “It sounded like you really wanted me to kill those goblins too.”

It was what I anticipated, yes. You defeating their horde would’ve showcased your immense skill considering your age. It’d be exciting for a reader.

“My way was better.” Peter replied. “You can keep rambling on, I’m going to do what I want to do.”

Peter looked from the sky down the dirt road and continued back to his village, his mission complete.