Goblin Refugees

EVENTS NEWS #45
Date: 1/6/2014 at 19:48
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Goblin Refugees

Meltha coughed quietly and pulled her blanket more tightly around her shoulders. It was warm for this time of year, and the weather in Elvandar was never truly uncomfortable, but a lingering sickness left her fatigued and generally feeling poorly used.

Meltha looked around her home, woven delicately between the roots of one of the great trees of Elvandar. The silvery leaves of the tree rustled in the breeze, causing a pleasant play of shadows and light on the grass below. She smiled softly to herself and glanced over to her chicken coop, as an outraged hen let out a squawk at some perceived slight from one of her sisters. Meltha called out in a gentle sing-song, and the animals quickly returned to their usual equanimity.

Her gaze then settled upon the small grave adjacent to the coop, and a mixture of emotions washed over her. The goblins whose bodies lay beneath the marker had come to Elvandar some months prior, claiming to seek refuge from some persecution by their own people. The Eledhel were a gentle and kind people, but the goblins had been their enemies for as long as the races had coexisted. That their arrival was judged with suspicion was something of an understatement.

A band of goblins had come to the borders of Elvandar's forest, demanding the return of the fugitive goblins. Meltha had not been there, but all had heard of the battle that took place there, on the shores of the river called Crydee by the humans. Just because the Eledhel had not turned over the goblins, however, did not mean that they were to be permitted to stay.

The group - there had been four in all - had been kept under careful watch while the People weighed their fate. With the permission of the Elders, the goblin brothers had taken up residence in Meltha's chicken coop, and were kept under constant surveillance. The brothers had been fiercely protective of one another, and as far as Meltha could tell, their delight with Elvandar had been genuine.

While the fugitive goblins were remarkable in that they did not attempt to slaughter the Eledhel on sight, it was ultimately determined that they could not be allowed to abide in the home of the Eledhel. The Eledhel had grown lax around another seemingly harmless goblin, many years prior, and the tragedy of that tale was still fresh in their minds.

The concern for the security of the forest seemed warranted when the goblins had insisted that they could abide only in Elvandar. They had argued that they would be found and killed by their brethren if they did not have the magic of Elvandar protecting them. In the end, they had requested death rather than eviction or relocation.

Meltha sighed as she shook her head to collect her thoughts. The entire affair had been sad, and exceedingly strange. Goblins were savage, brutal enemies of the Eledhel, and much of what had occurred seemed like some cunning ploy to strike the Eledhel a blow in the heart of their domain. Indeed, the goblins were servants of the Moredhel more often than not. Perhaps the entire affair had been their doing.

Still, the goblins had seemed gentle for those of their race, and Meltha judged it possible that they had truly been outcasts from their own kind. It was a pity they had not accepted the offer to see their group relocated far from both Elvandar and their native tribes. Crossing to the flower beds that she had planted around the grave, Meltha knelt and began to water them. As she worked, she murmured a quiet prayer for peace among all the people of Midkemia, and for the spirits of all those who departed this life with the same desire.

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Wochem, in the year 55.