BWG 4 Plans, dreams and follies

This is the fourth "chapter" in my “A boy, a dire wolf, and a goblin“ story.
Previous Item: "BWG 3.- A boy named Bulky" 

Bleak is the future.

A week after the battle, Bulky had recovered. Dunland, or Tierraparda, as Don Alfonso insisted on calling it, was home, workshop and fortress. In fall, it was witness a whirlwind of work, as all, from slaves to warriors, helped with the crops to end with a three days feast. In winter, warriors and children spent a mostly quiet, easy time by the fire. Slaves, freed from their tasks at the fields, took new responsibilities reparing and mending, and even making new gear for the warriors. Spring meant going back to the fields, and short raids for the warriors. But there was nothing like summer for the wielders of spears. These were their yearly do-or-die; do well and riches will flow into the clan, do bad and it would mean sorrow and tears for next winter. Either that, or being subjected to some foreign warlord.

Bulky had been told about this already, but it was then that it sunk into him. From afar Dunland appeared as a natural formation, with even pines and bushes growing to it. Up close, it revealed itself to be a large tower of solid stone, surrounded by a wooden fence and a ditch. Beyond that, protected by crude wooden watchtowers, lay the fields of the goblins, with wheat and corn high. The boy sunk as he imagined his future: wake up, toil the fields, eat, toil the fields some more, sleep and repeat, until he'll be another bald boy, lying death on the steppe. Goobye to reading, praying, singing, writing, study history, nature or dream up weird inventions, like his mechanical sparrow. It could get worse. He knew goblins loved their dungeons, digging winding tunnels in the search for jewels, or any ore. Goblins had been born on the dungeons, and were still creatures of the dark. That's were they gave birth their babies, bury their deads and worship their weird gods; deamons some said. And, who would build those tunnels?, kids like him, Bulky answered himself.

Hail to warriors

A procession of green flags emerged over the tall grass. Bulky froze, but eased himself as Lobo stayed relaxed and every goblin warrior chereed up. Ocarinas and drums began a boyish tune, one of those which tells about meadows, springs, hearth, pancakes and the laughs of children. Then, they saw them, the whole of Tierraparda coming to welcome their heroes and revell in their loot.

Bulky was surprised at how mundane the whole thing was. These were monsters with freak customs but they were just hugging each other, kids jumping into their fathers, mothers waiting for a long embrace. What's more, nobody was cruel or taunting to the captives. A little girl, half human by her looks, gave him a little bouquet of wild flowers and whispered: “We won't eat you.”

Don Alfonso greeted each and every one who had been left at home, not missing the servants, his eyes shinning in gladness whenever his courtesy was met with the same deference. “Welcome Don Alfonso”, “I missed you, Don Alfonso”, “We're always happy to see you in good health, chief”, and many other sentences of such manner that you wouldn't ever expect to hear from the lips of a goblin. This
eased up the new captives, a bit. Bulky, on a fit of optimism, took Don Alfonso as a very rare exception to goblinhood. Surely, he'll be sent home soon, he thought, counting on Don Alfonso's disposition.

The warlord had reasons to be generous. This raid, the first of the summer, had been a great success. Don Alfonso saw his clan into the future growing in strength and respectability. Slaves will flow aplenty; nothing else made a goblin warlord prouder, to bring in many captives, good docile workers, happier under them than free. This was deep in their ideology, if it can be called as such, and they could see nothing inherently wrong in taking human or any foreign kids, goblin included, and enslave them. If anyone felt sad, that was their fault, for clinging to their old memories; it anyone died that was unfortunate, but they would've probably died under the care of their families, either way. Those were the weak.

New victories and loot will make him known, and then the eight clans of the valley will join him, and, coming October, their combined forces will capture a human town, winning them too for his cause. Someday, somehow, King Alfonso would leave a Kingdom to his children; but there was still much battle and adventure than he could ponder though.

Lobo

Lobo's plans, so to speak, were short termed and practical. And so, when the wargs were led to their underground kennels, he jumped and danced with all his family. These were his six pups, three months old, and so not yet ready for battle. He hadn't given them names, but his master had called them: Muerdemás, Ladraladrón, Adarga, Comodón, Asustadora, Vigilia, and Gordilla, and he associated those sounds to their smell, and they make him happy. The pups were already as large as a young wolf, but looked as toys compared to Lobo and her partner.

She, well, she smelled like wisdom, like a ride on the hills, like jumping over a tree, and chasing aurochs away. Above all, she smelled like love. It took Lobo some discipline to tend to his wee ones, with much leaking and jumping. Only when the wee ones were content, he and Loba met alone and did as Love told them to.

Bulky's big folly

The rest of the day went swiftly. It started with a quick, improvised feast using much smoked fish and salted pork. The captives got a fair share of those, along with fruit and soup, which made a false impression. Ordinarly their lot would be restricted to porridge, lentils, onions and such. Their wake up call came soon enough, though, when they had to join the other slaves: humans and goblins alike to clear up the mess long into the night while the free goblins withdrew to more pleasant activities. It was made worse when they were led underground, through the tunnels to a small grilled trapdoor in the ground. Right there, going down by a rope ladder, would be their bed for the night.

As soon as the trapdoor was shut, and darkness engulfed all in the damp cavern, Bulky understood that his hopes for freedom were stupid. He'd live and die among these monsters, his family never knowing what had befallen to him. They'd look for him up in Sauvassone, but nobody would know him. Maybe, somebody will remember the kids that the goblins kept, but even then, how they could ever find him, so far into these dangerous land? Sleep didn't come easily, not for the want of good bedding and thick blankets, but for despair. Angry with himself, for not trying to run and hide when he had the opportunity, the boy went as far as to hit his head into the wall, getting some pain and a trickle of blood. Thankfully, the rest of the kids were sleeping by then. He'd come with some accident to explain his injury, if he'd live that long. He prayed for death, to be carried to Heaven or even for Purgatory, as no boy “as stupid and wicked as me“ deserved to see God. But these prayers weren't answered.

Except, maybe, in the form that his mind came up with the idea of converting the whole clan, winning all of them over to God. Was it impossible that God had ordained his kidnapping and enslavement for this purpose? Hadn't been St Patrick of ancient legend a slave himself? Well, he was no St Patrick, but if God led the way, he'll be well kept, and with God all things were possible. At least, that was his boyish faith.

Converting a goblin, not to mention a whole clan of them, was lunacy to almost every human, and, goblin of almost every age. Bulky even feared the whole thing of God's calling could be nothing by his imagination protecting him from the darkest corners in his mind. “Thank you, God” He muttered, setting his skeptical thoughts aside. Tough or tougher, he'll try hard and harder.


Real world notice/disclaimer thingy.

I understand that the Christian theology doesn't work too well in a fantasy setting. Firstly, the Christian Faith has it that certain events of the faith, at the very least the essential elements of Jesus Christ's mission and resurrection, happened in a real and concrete place and time.

Therefore, take all the references of this story to a faith that mostly resembles the Christian Faith, or what it might have been in a different setting. In that sense this is not much different to Narnia.

However, this is also not intended to be nothing of the sort of Narnia. Rather, its pretense it's to include a major element of the medieval times, Christianity, into medieval fantasy, preferring that to the usual take on coming up with some fuzzy polytheism.