Tags: Muffy, Dungeons & Dragons, goblin OC, the sidh, origin story, an almost peaceful day in the life of a cottagecore goblin
CW: near-drowning
After a fairly normal morning of chores and a walk through the woods, Muffy - a small-town goblin without a care in the world - is suddenly thrust into adventure by a plea from Nature herself.
Massive thanks to Tim Paraxade on Twitter for commissioning me to write about my own characters. You're a gem. ♡
---
It was a peaceful day in the woods, as always. The wind gently rustled the branches overhead, creating an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of patterns from the sunlight and shadow that dappled the ground below as Muffy moseyed her way down familiar yet invisible paths. Tall as she was for a goblin, her sightline still barely cleared the brush in many places. Yet she knew these trails as well as any of the dirt roads that connected the various farmsteads and cottages of their quaint, little town, so that even the lush foliage of summer couldn’t turn her about. Though the morning dew had long since taken its leave, the air was still pleasantly cool thanks to the canopy’s ample shade. A breeze wicked away the sweat lingering from the morning’s chores, and a shiver trickled up her spine. After several full hours of good, hard work, she was eager for a dip in her favorite spring.
Muffy had gotten up early that morning – early even for her, before the sun had risen – to clean the house, sweep the walk, feed the chickens, and do a little gardening. Despite the rumblings of crop troubles from neighboring towns, there were already more cucumbers on the vine in their garden than she and her parents could eat in a week. They needed to be picked and pickled before they got too big, and she figured if she was already doing food prep, it only made sense to get a few jams going on the stove with the abundance of peppers and berries the family had gathered on their hike together yesterday. When the sun finally peeked over the horizon and through the cottage’s windows, her mother joined her in the kitchen, happily taking over minding the preserves-to-be after exchanging kisses good-morning. Muffy had been helping their elderly neighbors with errands while their son was off at market for a few days, so with a kiss and a hug, she had left the rest to her mother and scurried off for her second round of morning chores.
On her way over, she stopped briefly to sit on one of the low, stone fences that lined the road in spots prone to flooding and jotted down a few notes from that morning’s cooking session in her ever-expanding notebook of local cuisine. For the past year, she had been cataloging as many local techniques and recipes as she had the paper for, sometimes having to squeeze new steps and tips into the margins or between lines with footnote strings longer than some words. For a town like theirs, where little of historical or political note ever happened, these sorts of texts would be critical in preserving all of their collected knowledge and experience. A grandmother’s roast chicken recipe passed down for generations, a child’s favorite sauce to poach eggs in, a visiting nomad’s wild herb spice blend; all of it was precious, representing hundreds of years – tens of thousands of days – lived by an equal number of people. For even a brand new recipe was not conceived in a void, but was the result of everything the chef had eaten, learned, and lived up to that point. Muffy was no scholar, but if her humble scribblings could keep their memories alive and carry them across time and space eternal, it was well worth the effort.
After polishing off the lunch she had packed, she’d stopped by their neighbors’ house just as promised and tended their livestock and garden while the three of them chattered away. When she had finished, she’d been sent off with a jar of plum preserves and half a dozen eggs in thanks and was ready for a dip into the cool, refreshing waters of her favorite spring.
Tucked back into the woods only an hour’s walk from her home, Muffy’s personal little slice of heaven took the form of a natural spring that bubbled up and out from somewhere deep under the hills, filling a rocky basin that had formed at the base of one particular hill. It was just close enough that she could visit any time she pleased, but far enough away that she had never seen anyone else there, even the other villagers. She wasn’t usually one for secrets considering the emphasis their culture put on inter-reliance and communal ownership, but found it difficult to share her private retreat. She figured if this was her most selfish indulgence, then she wasn’t doing too badly.
Setting down the wooden bucket she had been carrying her affects in, she carefully undid the ribbons in her hair, took off her kerchief, and tucked all of them into the pocket of her apron. She then removed each layer of her fluffy yet practical dress in turn, from her apron to the petticoat, carefully hanging them over a low tree branch nearby. As she finished, a cool, early summer breeze swept through, and she breathed in the scent of the season as it brushed every freckled inch of her skin and lifted her mane of curly, caramel-brown hair to tickle the sweat on her back. The air was fragrant with numerous herbs and flowers that surrounded the spring, some of which Muffy had planted herself to enhance the atmosphere just so.
With an excited giggle, she turned her face from the wind and carefully climbed into the spring, lowering herself onto the rocky shelf that sat just a few feet below the surface. Lovely as the waters were, only about a third of the spring was safe for her to sit in. Past the shelf was a drop-off where the water that filled the basin bubbled up from depths so far below that she had never seen the bottom, no matter how brightly the sun shone or what angle it took. Being a weak swimmer, she had never dared to even approach that side except from outside the spring, standing on solid ground beyond the lip.
Lowering herself into the welcome briskness of the cool, spring waters, she sighed contentedly. Every thought and care in the world – few that she had – were whisked away as her muscles briefly tensed against the chill before melting into the sublime flow surrounding her. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the stone lip of the basin and let out a long hum. Paradise indeed.
A shadow passed overhead with the telltale twitter of a bee-eater joining the woods’ mellow ambiance. However, a second later there was the distinct “plop” of something small and heavy breaking the surface of the water, followed by gentle ripples nudging her awake. Sitting up and looking down, a twinkle in the water caught her eye. Leaning forward, it seemed to be something small and dark, no bigger than her fist, sitting just at the edge of the submerged rock shelf. Cautiously, she crawled forward on hands and knees with only her head above the surface. As she approached, it stirred, glimmered one last time, and then disappeared from sight. Whatever it was, the current must have caught it, as it tumbled over the edge and vanished into the spring’s murky depths.
Glancing over the ledge, Muffy’s heart sank. At first, she was merely disappointed that her curiosity would go unanswered. Whether the item had been valuable or not hadn’t mattered; she’d just wanted to see if the bee-eater had brought her a present or if something had tumbled down the hill. Either way, the object was now far beyond reach.
Her disappointment was suddenly replaced by shards of icy fear, however, as her head plunged under the spring’s surface, and she felt the rock shelf slip out from under her. She screamed in shock, but nothing but bubbles escaped her lips as the waters rapidly grew colder and darker around her. Flailing her arms and legs, Muffy fought against the pull of the current as long as she could, before the strength slipped from her body, and the circle of light above faded into pitch blackness.
***
“Mmn…”
A distant, muffled rustling like the brush of leaves in the wind slowly roused Muffy from the dark that had closed in around her. As her consciousness returned and her eyes fluttered open, the soft sunlight of a summer afternoon filtered past the forest canopy down to where she lay in the dirt. Pushing herself up, she shook the drowsiness from her head. As she did, though, she noticed that her hair was perfectly dry. Her ribbons were perfectly tied, and not a single curl was out of place. Her bucket of belongings sat neatly at her side, and her dress was dry too, though she couldn’t remember having put it back on. The last thing she did remember was sinking to the depths of the spring and feeling its icy waters choke the life out of her from within. Here she was, though, safe and sound. Had she laid down for a nap on her way to the spring and forgotten? Had it all just been a horrible, little dream?
The light rustling fell upon her ears once more, and she realized that it wasn’t the leaves at all, still as they were for the moment. Turning towards the sound, she noticed three tall figures huddled with their heads together in hushed debate, their backs to her.
“Umm, hello,” she said hesitantly after a moment of waiting, sorry to interrupt. The strangers immediately fell silent, their heads flicking up in unison to regard her. The hoods of their cloaks threw dark shadows across their features, making their faces impossible to see. Though each figure’s cloak was subtly unique in both color and pattern, all had elegant embroidery and ornate beading stitched into the satin that outlined the silhouettes of butterflies, vines, flowers, and other natural works of art.
Their pale lips were each drawn into thin, tight lines as she stood to face them.
“Pardon my intrusion, but...who are you?”
Two of the three glanced at one another before turning to the third, who stepped forward with graceful measure. Garbed in an emerald green cloak with strings of fine, white pearls sketching out scenes of butterflies flitting airily around lily-of-the-valleys, the figure straightened to full height, their face still hidden by their hood.
“We are servants of the very woods.” Their voice was as soft and silken as the skin of rose petals.
When the figure offered nothing further, Muffy laughed nervously.
“O-Oh,” she stuttered. “Okay. W-Well, how about your names? How should I address your graces?” Even without understanding who they were, Muffy knew enough to treat her hosts with cautious deference.
“We no longer carry with us the burden of our names. We shed our individual identities long ago upon pledging ourselves to Nature.” The figure tilted their head back and raised their hands to the bows of the trees overhead.
“Druids!” Muffy gasped in awe as her hands flew to her cheeks. She had heard tales from the older folk in the village about circles of druids, tending to and communing with the land in ways that even the world’s greatest farmers would barely be able to fathom. Fancying herself fairly well-connected to the rich, natural landscape surrounding their homestead, Muffy had a great respect for them and their ways. Still, she had never thought that she would meet one, much less three, in her relatively short lifetime.
A thought flitted across her mind as she was staring starstruck.
“Say, did you all happen to pull me out of the spring?”
“Indeed,” said another, draped in blue and with long, sharp nails that twinkled like goldstone. “It seems we caught thee in just the nick of time, in more ways than one.”
“The land is sick,” the third announced loudly and suddenly, cutting off a thanks from Muffy before she could get a single syllable out. “Clearly, this troubles us. However, being bound in service to the woods as we are, we are unable to make the journey necessary to heal it.”
Muffy’s long ears twitched. So the rumors of a crop blight had been true.
“Through communing with the spirit of Nature and by Her grace,” all three clasped their hands in front of themselves with one palm up and one down in a gesture that Muffy hurried to mimic clumsily, “we discovered that She has chosen a champion to take up this quest in our stead.”
Muffy felt the breath catch in her chest.
“A humble and unlikely hero, but a hero nonetheless: a little goblin named Marychka.”
“That’s my name!” she squealed, waving a hand in the air excitedly, the ruffles of her dress flouncing up and down with every hop.
“Indeed. She sent us to appraise thee of thine quest; to point the way far as Her hand could reach. That is, if thou wilt answer Her call.”
Muffy was beside herself with joy and almost dizzy from disbelief. She never could have imagined life would have such momentous plans in store for her, but perhaps it made sense from a certain angle. She had love and patience enough for all things great and small in the world. The great spirit of Nature must have trusted her to stay true to her quest while causing minimal damage; she was a pacifist, after all, non-violent by nature and willing only to fight in defense. Of course a being as nurturing as Nature Herself knew the value of that.
The third figure coughed awkwardly, breaking Muffy out of her stupor.
“Oh! Yes, yes of course I will! I’d be honored to!” She gave an enthusiastic, little curtsy to seal her pledge.
All three of the figures smiled faintly.
“Thanks to thee, dear Marychka.” The tall one bowed their head, repeating the open-palmed gesture they had done earlier. “A final message, from Nature, through us, and to thou, to get thee started on thy way: ’Seek knowledge suited to thy task, as this be where thou is most lacking.’” Raising their head once more, they whispered, “Her voice yet grows faint. I fear She has not the strength for further communion. For now, She sleeps, conserving Her strength for the struggle ahead.
“Fret not, dear Marychka; Nature would not leave her champion unadorned. She anoints thee with a fragment of Her remaining power. Thou may find thyself soon capable of magics with which thou were not proficient before. As longtime custodians of this power, we do caution thee not to abuse them, but we have faith that thou shalt do what is right, and in Her name.”
“I will! I promise! Oh, thank you so much. I’ll make Her proud!”
With one last curtsy, Muffy scooped up her bucket and raced home to prepare for the journey ahead.
***
Three pairs of ears listened closely until the patter of the little goblin’s footsteps had faded into the soundscape of the woods.
“Is she gone?” A nasally voice cracked through the serenity. “I can’t see a damned thing through this hood.”
“I can’t believe you almost drowned her,” the darker-skinned figure in blue chided, clicking their tongue disapprovingly. “Twat.”
“What daft cow climbs into a spring she can’t swim?” the first countered. “It ain’t my fault!”
“Oh, shut up,” the third figure cut in smoothly, a satisfied smirk lingering on their lips. Their tone was as languid as a butterfly floating on a breeze, yet the other two immediately snapped to attention. “It all turned out all right, didn’t it? Have a little faith in me next time, yeah?”
The others muttered begrudging assents.
“A sliver off our power here and there won’t matter, not split three ways. She’s got no clue what she’s doing anyway; she’ll be dead faster than you can blink.”
The first figure lifted their hood from their eyes with a finger of each hand and batted their long, dark lashes sarcastically while the other two fought to suppress their laughter.
“Fine, fine,” the leader apparent chuckled. “Before the moon next shifts, then, for sure. It’s just a bit of fun now. Let’s enjoy the show, yeah?”