Gob Neighbours

20260318

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Mildred was in the middle of what she expected to be a perfectly normal delivery in a sleepy little village when she spotted a sickeningly familiar muddy green lurking in the inn’s kitchen. “A goblin!”
As one the cooking staff - and the goblin - turned to peer in the direction Mildred was pointing. Alloying her horror with confusion. Some of the group kept examining the back of the kitchen, some gave Mildred odd looks… and finally comprehension dawned. “Oh, you mean Mij?”
Everyone relaxed with sheepish murmurs or bemused chuckles. Including the goblin, who went right back to peeling a carrot.
“You… named a goblin?” Mildred shot a helpless sideways glance at the innkeeper, who was giving her a quizzical, faintly disapproving look. As if freaking out about a goblin being not only amongst humans but in a food preparation space was unreasonable!
“No? That’s his name. Well, best we can say it, anyways.”
What?
Goblins… had… names?
Mildred stared at the goblin, who gave a gappy and disturbingly sharp grin. The expression being paired with a knife that, in its small hands, looked like a bastard sword only added to her unease. Then it set the knife down, patted its bony chest, and with painstaking enunciation gargled “Miij.”
“See?”
“W-why do you have a goblin?”
And why are you giving it knives??
“Oh, he wandered in a while ago.” The innkeeper said, as if talking about adopting a cat. “Tried offering me some metal scraps he’d managed to pound into circles. Guess he’d figured out trading coins for food and didn’t grasp the fine details. We gave him a mug of soup and explained best we could. He’s hung around ever since.”
Mildred side-eyed the goblin, which was still peeling carrots. “It looks like it’s working for you.”
“Natch? You wanna eat, you gotta work.”
“Do your customers know there’s a goblin in your kitchen?”
The innkeeper set her fists on her hips and huffed impatiently. “Why would they care? Look, miss, are you here to ask daft questions or are you here to sell pans, eh?”
Why would…??
Mind whirling, Mildred laid out her goods on autopilot. And tried not to flinch when the goblin huddled close alongside the humans. She was relieved when the goblin scuttled off, and also that most of her stock was purchased swiftly… then the goblin returned, pennies clutched in its gnarly little fist.
It pointed to a sugar pot, which the others had ignored. A bit fancy for a place like this.
“You want to buy that?”
The goblin nodded. Laid out six pence. Looked up at the inn staff, held up six fingers, and said “Cee? Ye?”
“Yep. Six.” The innkeeper nodded approvingly.
Conflicted and fascinated, Mildred gingerly picked up the goblin’s pennies, which did seem to be genuine. It beamed and hefted the sugar pot in both hands. “Ged bool! Yem!”
“You’re… welcome?” Mildred ventured.
The cook helpfully translated “He says it’s a good bowl, perfect size for him to eat out of.”
“It’s meant for sugar.”
“Well, it’s not going to melt if he puts stew in it, now will it?”
“I… No, but…” Mildred shook her head and gave up.
The goblin pattered over to a shelf which, judging by the varied and motley selection of containers, was probably where the staff kept their personal eating utensils, and proudly added the sugar bowl to the collection.
With her business now successfully conducted, Mildred felt free to ask a few more questions. “I take it you people haven’t experienced goblin attacks?”
“Nope.” The innkeeper gave a dismissive shrug. “They keep to the fens, we stay out of the fens, we all share the river, everyone’s happy. Reckon those stories about goblins attacking in the night are just that - stories.”
Talk about naive bumpkins! Mildred suppressed her exasperation and simply started packing up her remaining wares. Eager to get out of here.
“He’s really not any trouble.” The innkeeper said bemusedly. “Made himself a lil nest in the pantry, out of the way. And he does a great job keeping the weevils and mice and such down.”
Mildred cringed at the implications.
“Hey now, we don’t put ‘em in the food or anything! He just eats ‘em. Right handy. And he’s fussy ‘bout keeping clean. Sure, we needed to get him a stool so he could reach the sink, but he washes his hands like everyone else. So there’s no need to make a fuss, truly. He’s just a lil fella minding his own business and earning his way, like any good folk.”
The rest of the group nodded. All disturbingly sincere and earnest.
Swinging her pack onto her back, Mildred pointedly asked “What will you do, if more of them come out of the fens?”
Silence. Everyone stared blankly at her.
Then the innkeeper ventured “Get more stools, I suppose.”
Mildred shook her head and strode out, headed for the barge jetty. Behind her she just caught someone say “Aw, don’t look like that, Mij - you didn’t do nothing wrong. That fool’s just got a bee up her-”
Humph! These bumpkins had some nerve, calling others fools! They were lucky they’d not suffered for their-
She faltered, eyes wide, as she realised there was a raft covered with goblins drifting by the line of barges. Armed with spears! Yet the bargers weren’t doing anything!!
Wait, no, one was gesturing at the goblins and shouting, thank goodness- oh no, the goblins were responding by poling closer! Mildred bit her lip, her heart pounding. Then her mouth drooped open as the barger held up a small loaf of bread and pointed at the goblins’ basket.
Nods, guttural sounds, the basket was held up for the barger to pull out… a fish? A very fresh one. The bread was handed over. Both parties nodded and gestured approvingly. The goblins’ raft continued drifting downstream. Towards the fens.
Mildred stared after it and distantly wondered if there was an untapped market to be explored.

Prompt was “Write a story based on the theme of acceptance”.