The Goblin's Throne

Goblin Short Story: Warm

"Finally, they're asleep." Knut sighed, tipping forward and landing heavily in the bed beside me face first, bouncing me with his weight. 

"The silence is almost deafening, isn't it?" I asked, glancing towards the elven cradle where my newborn sons were sleeping soundly. Knut had made sure that it could hold more than one baby when he'd had it made. Good thing. I reached over the side of the big bed and rocked them, pulling and pushing the cradle so that it moved gently from side to side. I felt like all I did was stare at them. They were undeniably goblin. They had the same palid, strange skin as their father, the same pointed ears and their little mouths were already lined with tiny pointed teeth. And yet, there was a humanness to them too. I saw myself in them just as much as Knut...and I saw my brothers too.  

"Who knew babies complained so much." Knut sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. I yawned in agreement. Frit and Floki were only a few days old and they'd filled most of that time by screaming their heads off. Frit more so than little Floki, who was quiet just so long as he was held.  We were exhausted. We could call the goblins in to help us, but I hadn't even called for Ask yet, not once since they were born. I wanted to care for them myself. These last tiny, fragile remnants of my family.

 "You can go back to our chamber if you want to. I'll be fine." I said softly. "You go rest where it's quiet. They're probably going to start screaming in an hour or two wanting something to eat." 

"Not like I could sleep anyway. I'm still much too excited." I felt his hand pet down my spine and across my hips, finding purchase in my soft flesh. His chest pressed to my back and his mouth heated my ear. "Such a sweet surprise you held from me. Not one heir but two!" 

I gasped as he suddenly yanked me from the edge of the bed and flipped me over.  He grinned cunningly down at me, his dark grey hair hanging by his horrible sharp-featured face. "What other sweet treat are you hiding from me?"

"Stop that." I giggled,  pushing at his thigh with my foot, weakly trying to get him off of me. "I literally just gave birth to two babies. I'm not the least bit interested in that." 

"Your blush is telling me otherwise." He teased, but rolled off of me, sprawling out beside me. "Tell me a story then, to pass the time."

"What story?"

"Something from your childhood, perhaps? Preferably something happy."

"There's not much about my childhood you don't already know."

"Doesn't matter. I just like to hear you talk. Your voice soothes me. It'll help me sleep."

I thought carefully for a moment of what I could tell him. There weren't very many happy tales from my childhood. Not any I could remember now, after what Jasper did, but one kept coming to the forefront of my mind. Mostly, because Jasper played little part in it. "How about the first time I ever burgled someone's house?"

"Sounds delightful." Knut settled in, putting his arm around me and snuggling his face into the curve of my throat, closing his eyes to listen more carefully. 

And so, warm in my bed with my first born children sleeping in their cradle, I began, "The third winter after my father died was the coldest one I can remember."

We slept as we did many winter nights back then, huddled beneath threadbare blankets, as close to the hearth as we could get. The fire had long since gone out. The embers just barely smoldered, giving off the faintest heat. I shook so hard my body ached and I could hear my brothers' teeth chattering even over the squeaking and scratching of the rats, scurrying around us in places we weren't looking.