The great thing about an enchanted forest of happiness is that the beds are wonderful. Not only was the firmness right for each person, but each bed seemed to warm itself just enough to make it a delight to slide into. The evening passes peacefully for the group and by first light everyone awakens refreshed and full of energy.
The morning air is crisp and clean and the birds above chip and dance at the new day. All in all, it's a really delightful walk through a beautiful forest of green and streaks of sunlight. The only dark cloud during the walk thus far is that Tristan and Hannah have barely said a word to one-another since their argument last night. But, before either of the pair can consider speaking up, the edge of the woods is seen just ahead.
Hannah eyes the end of the wood with some relief. "Ah good, we're coming to the end of this forest," she murmurs. "Once we're out of this place, perhaps I can get my bearings again for the next part of the journey."
Minstrel Sam adjusts his pack once more. It's a fairly large painting, so he's had to lash it to a makeshift frame that he could then wear as a pack, which leaves the odd impression on anyone following him that the small baby seal in it is about to toss them a rubber ball. "I can't remember having bearings to start with," he says cheerily. "I'll be happy if we find some, though!"
The Golden Hawk's mount doesn't understand her rider's attitude. Peaches found the forest to be utterly delightful.
Souhait's hooves are gold. Every now and then he pauses as he's walking to give one forehoof or the other a dubious look when it catches the light. Tristan, mounted on his Knightsteed's back, seems lost in thought, but he half-smiles at one of those pauses. He nods at Hannah's words. "I am relieved that we've had no further troubles since the troll-rabbit, but I fear that won't last once we're outside the spell."
The trees thin, then stop altogether. Just inside the forest still, the group can now see what awaits them beyond. A wasteland lies ahead; a land of canyons, craggy rocks, and tumbling, dead, brush. Even the air smells dusty. There is at least a rough road that can be seen ahead and it winds down into the canyon in the distance.
Hannah gives the knight a very short, sidelong glance. "You're probably right," she agrees, but in a much lower tone she adds, "although a good, head-on fight might help me to relieve some tension."
Tristan meets the Hawk's eyes for a moment, then looks away into the dusty canyon ahead. "Ah. A good honest wasteland. At least we needn't worry it's pretending to be nice by way of luring us into a false sense of security."
Peaches wuffles at the sight of all that dust. She'll need a thorough brushing later, for certain.
Hannah brings the Princess to a stop just outside the wood and consults the rough maps Thomas gave her before they left on this odd mission. "Well, even though we had to detour through this Strange Forest of Eternal Charm, we seem to be on the right track. This road appears to lead into the town we seek," she comments.
Oblivious to the comments, the minstrel stops at the edge of the forest. "I feel thirsty just lookin' at that," he says (dryly). "I don't suppose yer map says how long it is to the next watering hole, does it?"
As Peaches steps out of the woodland, it's like a wave of dirt and mud smears over her. Gone are the gilded hooves and nicely combed mane. Instead, she finds herself looking ... rather common and filthy. Apparently beauty applied by the woods can't exist beyond it.
Hannah gives the minstrel a grin over her shoulder. "Sadly, no."
The mare freezes as she notices the change, and looks as mortified as a Knightsteed can look. Her lips tremble and her knees actually shake..
The fey knight smiles. "Good that we've not lost our way. It doesn't, m'lady?" Souhait looks a bit relieved as the gold vanishes from his hooves; Tristan stops to check his waterskin and make sure the supplies they picked up in the forest haven't vanished, too.
Minstrel Sam catches the change and does a likewise check, unstrapping the painting to see what's become of it.
Hannah quickly reaches down to pat the mare. "Don't worry, once we reach Greedle, I'll help you pretty up a bit. I'm still carrying your tiara, you know. We could put it on you once we get there."
The supplies remained behind at least. As for the paining ... well, what once was cute seals and a ball is now two rotting hell-hounds fighting over which gets to chew on the head that looks to have been recently ripped from a corpse. The red paint used for the blood even looks wet.
But.. but.. Peaches keeps muttering horsishly. With supreme effort of will (and the promise of the tiara) she takes a step forward, and then another.
Chunks of dirt and mud flake and fall off Peaches with each step.
"Goodness gracious," says Minstrel Sam. "That ought to make an impression back at the-- hmm." He draws a small dinner knife and tries scoring the frame to see if it retains its healing powers.
The painting screams! ... and starts bleeding.
Hannah quickly turns her head. "What was that?"
"Oh goodness! Sorry, sorry," apologizes the minstrel as he quickly desists, patting the wood back into shape.
Souhait whirls about, both him and his rider looking to the painting. "It's alive? What is that thing anyway?"
Even with the screaming, the painting does seem to heal itself. The mark is gone within a few seconds. The blood on Minstrel Sam's hands, though, remains.
Sam explains as he wipes the blood off, "This is the painting I, er, borrowed from the nice gentleman in the fairy woods, Sir Tristan. It's turned quite disconcerting, wouldn't ya say?"
Peaches nearly lunges forward - and with Hannah's head turned, that could have hurt! Instead she just whinnies in alarm.
"Yes, and it rather makes the whole of the forest more disconcerting." Tristan looks back to the woods. "It doesn't talk, does it?"
Hannah manages to get over her surprise rather quickly. "Hmmm. I'd say you definitely need to bring that painting back to Hawksmoor, Sam. Sneak it into Thomas' room - then poke it." She grins again, although with a little more mischieviousness this time.
Minstrel Sam rubs his chin. "Well, I was hopin' it was gonna stay cute so we could trap the troll-bit in it. It didn't seem to care for cuteness one bit. This though... Hmm. Yeah, Tom'd like it." He cackles and re-slings the painting on his back, adjusting it so it won't clatter against his lute.
"So is this its true nature, or is what it was in the forest the 'real' thing? Given the nature of the spell, I suppose what we're seeing now is truer to the original. But what it was before seemed less miserable." Tristan doesn't look as amused by the subject as Hannah and Sam.
Hannah dares to give Tristan a slight smile. "Then let us hope the town of Greedle is not as bleak as that painting, eh?" Taking up the Princess' reins again, she asks, "Shall we continue?"
Tristan hesitates. "I am not sure taking that painting with us is advisable, given its uncertain nature."
Sam looks up at the painting-pack. "But Tom'd like it!"
Hannah thinks for a moment. Then she looks at Sam. "I'd say, as long as we can keep it quiet, we can continue to carry it if it amuses you. What say you, Sam? You're the one who seems to have taken a shine to it."
Minstrel Sam grins wryly. "Well, on the one hand, he'd like it, on the other, that looks like a lot of desert to cross an' it's awfully big. An' on the left foot, it could provide a little bit of shade, an' on the right foot, if we see the troll-bit, I'm thinkin' of introducin' one to the other. Just warn me if you see it eatin' my head, okay?"
Hannah smiles widely. "Somehow, I think you'd notice if it began eating your head, Sam. But, as you wish. Let's move on."
"I have people who'd swear my head is packed with nothin' but booze-infused sawdust," quips Minstrel Sam as he falls in.
Tristan nods, defering to Sam and Hannah, and lets the topic drop. Souhait walks down the track, stately and oblivious to any remaining flakes of mud and grime attached to him.
Peaches trudges onward into the wasteland. Once the forest is out of sight, the path passes a large boulder with something carved into the side: HE TRIED TO CROSS.
Hannah pauses to read what's been carved into the boulder. "Hmm. That doesn't sound very positive. Have we passed into the Valley of Failure now?"
"Is that what the map calls it?" Tristan asks. "I suppose we could try not to cross."
"Well, who is 'he'? If it is the boulder, then certainly he has failed to cross, and perhaps fallen from a great height," says Sam professorially, or at least as much of a professorial demeanor as the ragged old faerie can manage. "On the other hand, if it is not, then he's not here, so he has tried an' succeeded. Eh what?"
Peaches noses the rock, and then looks to Hannah with a 'should we go on?' expression.
Tristan shrugs a little to show he has no ideas, and follows Hannah's lead.
Hannah pats the mare's neck. "Yes, by all means," she says. But she continues to look thoughtful.
It isn't far before another boulder carving proclaims: ON SLIPPERY ROCKS.
"No danger of that here," Tristan mutters, and continues on to whatever the next stone says.
The next roadsign reads, "ALL THAT WAS FOUND."
The old bard peers owlishly at the rocks. "Some wag's written a jest on the road signs," he muses.
Peaches just snorts. Maybe she's not a big reader.
Hannah exchanges a look with the knight. "I'm not sure I like where the meaning of these signs is headed..." she murmurs. "But we are on the right road to Greedle. Let's see what the next one says."
The next carving is a bit closer, and right in the cliff wall as the trail narrows between two bluffs of rock. It reads: WERE HIS BLOODY SOCKS. On the opposite wall, just a few yards beyond, is carved, "PLEASE USE THE TOLL BRIDGE." There's a sound of rushing water ahead, echoing down the small canyon.
"Charming advertisement," Tristan remarks. "Strange that there's a river here when the area's so dusty."
"D'you hear water?" asks Sam bemusedly.
Hannah nods. "I do. Well, all I can say at this point is, I hope have what's needed for the toll. Some bridge-keepers ask for strange things in payment."
From around the bend, along with the sounds of water, are voices. One of them.. which sounds somehow short.. says, "Hear me out; quiche issa perfekly asseptable dish if you use stinky enough cheese."
"Good thing I've got a very strange thing here," says the minstrel cheerily.
"But, it gots to have rotten spinach too! Stinky cheese isn' enough; it needs dat stringy feel," remarks another loud, and somewhat annoyed, voice.
"Indeed," Hannah agrees, then points her Knightsteed in the direction of the voices. "And from the sounds of the keepers ahead, we may need it!"
The bickering voices only grow louder as the the small group comes around a bend in the canyon wall. The question on water is answered as head is a river full of jagged rocks and dangerous-looking rapids. And true to the sign's suggestion, small wooden bridge with a rough-hewn gate blocking passage across it; a toll bridge, in fact. Standing behind the gate is the source of the rather loud voices. Two small and rather greenish creatures are glaring at each other. One of them is waving its arms animatedly. With a closer look ... the species of the creatures is readily obvious. Goblins.
"I dunno.. spinach is like.. a vegetable.." the first voice comments.. and then shouts, "Who goes there!" as the party comes into sight.
Goblins. The worst-dressed sentients in the world, Peaches grumbles to Souhait.
"Invaders! Get the turnips! Hide de wimmens!" the second voice proclaims.
Souhait shrugs to Peaches. At least they're dressed.
Minstrel Sam shudders. "Goblin cuisine is to be missed, by leagues if possible," he whispers to Hannah and Sir Tristan.
"Oh, wait, I one of ze wimmens," the second voice adds after her short pause. "I forgets!"
Hannah rolls her eyes heavenward at all the unnecessary commotion. "We're not invaders, we merely come to pass over your bridge to the other side!" she calls to the goblins. "May we approach?"
"Dey rather polite for invaders," the second voice comments as she elbows her companion. "Think we speak to them? Maybe dey pay toll!"
"Really?" the first goblin asks, surprised at his partner, and then surprised again at Hannah. "Oh.. you wanna use the bridge? Does your horses bite, or your.. uh.. pet thingy there?" he asks, pointing at Sam in the end.
Tristan keeps a straight face; he's got a lot of practice at that. He and Souhait wait patiently for Hannah to negotiate their passage.
Sam grins. "Not on a first date, sir."
Hannah tries very, very hard not to laugh at this - and just barely succeeds. "The Knightsteeds do not bite unless provoked. Neither does Minstrel Sam, for that matter." She takes the lead and urges the Princess forward to meet the goblins. "What sort of toll do you charge to cross?"
Goblin #1 whispers to the other, "What do you think? They look pretty rich."
Tristan turns on his mount to give Sam a stern look. "Hush. You're ruining my straight face," he mock-rebukes in a low voice.
"Dunno! First time anyone agree!" Goblin #2 says, "Think dey gots anything mouldy? An hey, why do dey want to cross, anyway! Dey should tell us what dey up to..."
"I'm failing to see the problem," whispers Minstrel Sam back unrepentantly, but he does shush so Hannah can handle the negotiation.
"Oh, yeah," #1 says, and turns to Hannah - but shies away from Peaches. "So.. uh.. why do yous want to cross the bridge? Oh! And don't say 'To Get To The Other Side'! We know about that one! We has training for this!"
The old bard struggles not to burst out with another corny joke.
"Yeah! Two whole months of training!" the second one claims. She holds up three fingers.
"And they're giving me enough trouble with it as it is," Tristan murmurs, facing forward again. He's actually doing a good job of maintaining a neutral expression, though.
I'd hate to see the goblin's trainers... Hannah thinks to herself, still trying not to laugh. At last, she replies, "We merely wish to reach the town of Greedle, which lies beyond this bridge. So, what do you require for payment? I'm not sure we have anything moldy - unless you're willing to give up a pair of your socks, Sam?" She winks back at the minstrel, the only expression she dares to make.
"Have you got any.. quiche?" the shorter, male goblin asks, trying to look sly about it. It must be something popular in the goblin black market.
"My socks are classics," pronounces Minstrel Sam, having been given a direct question - well, straight line, really. "They are Golden Oldies, not Moldy Oldies."
The second goblin starts elbowing the other rapidly, asking, "Hey, think mebbe de're de ones de leader of Greedle wrote to? She already payed de toll for a group t'pass."
"Oh," the first goblin replies, nodding to his partner. To Hannah, he asks, "Are you.. uh.." He pulls out a grubby piece of hide with something written on it. "Lard Tumpass the Exploder?"
Minstrel Sam twitches at the horrible misinterpretation of his friend's name.
... Well, horribly amusing.
Hannah looks at the second goblin directly. "We did receive a summons to Greedle, yes," she replies. "Would you like to see it? And, uh, would you be able to read it if I showed it to you?" To the questions, she blinks. "Oh, you mean Lord Thomas! He received the request for help and sent me to handle the affair. I am Lady Hannah, of the Golden Hawks."
After a brief consultation with the other goblin, the first says, "Let's see the letter!"
Hannah takes it from one of her belt-pouches and unfolds it for the goblins. She holds it where they can easily see it, but thinks it safer to keep a hold of it.
Cautiously, the first goblin approaches. Rather than try to read the letter, however, he leans forward and sniffs it instead. "Yup.. that's Princess Greezy's scent all right. I guess you can pass then."
Minstrel Sam whispers to Sir Tristan, "He knows it's a princess's by scent? I guess it's true that they bathe in milk and honey."
"Perhaps it's a matter of keen goblin perception," Tristan murmurs back, without turning on his mount. "Look how they named the lord explorer."
Bathe? Unlikely, Peaches comments to Souhait, and seems eager to get across the bridge. This is seen as aggression by the goblin, who quickly retreats to hide behind his partner.
"Thank you," Hannah replies, re-folding the letter and putting it away. She signals to the others that they have leave to cross now, and cautiously urges the Princess onto the bridge. "If you feel the footing is unsafe, let me know," she says softly into the mare's ear.
Peaches whuffles, and trots across the bridge with her head held high. We're on a mission for the Princess!
Minstrel Sam scratches behind an ear. "Hmm, well I suppose we can be glad they didn't mis-smell the letter, as opposed to mis-spelling Tom's name!"
"Thank you, gentlegoblins," Tristan says to the toll collectors, as Souhait carries them across. He fishes out a loaf of fresh bread from the caretaker, and offers it to them. "For your trouble. It's not moldy yet but it will be if you wait a week or two."
The second goblin swipes the bread and cackles! "I accept," she croons.
The goblin then pauses and scratches her head. "You are male, ya?" she asks nervously. "Can't tell with fey..."
"Thank you kind Sir," the first goblin says, bowing. "And your monkey too."
"I am. Good day to you, miss," Tristan says, touching the brim of his hat. "And to you, sir." Souhait carries them on their way.
Tristan's not going to hold the goblin's query against her. He would not have known she was female if she had not said so, after all.
"Wait, wait!" the female goblin calls out after Tristan, "But I accepted!"
"Hey, no fair," the first goblin says to the second. "I just founds out you were a girl, Bruce! You been shaving your ears to fool me!"
"Ride faster," whispers Minstrel Sam urgently to Sir Tristan. "Before they change their mind!"
Tristan already gave her the bread, so he's perplexed by the call. He nods to her bemusedly and rides on.
Hannah rides in the lead with the Princess, ready to warn the others if any part of the bridge seems rotten or broken.
"Well, Bertogs bottom pustules," the female goblin grumps and stops her feet. "He wouldn't have looked too bad iffen he smeared on some mud and had a few scars."
The bridge proves to be sturdy enough, despite a few holes here and there. But at least it isn't a rope bridge! The goblins lowers the barricade behind them, and continue bickering as the group reaches the far side of the raging river. The path ahead is once again through a shallow canyon, but at least there are some signs of vegetation. Mostly of the poisonous variety.
Hannah looks thoughtfully at the sacks of supplies the forest's caretaker packed for the rest of their journey. "We may be glad soon that we have these, if my suspicions are correct," she muses aloud.
The sound of the river fades as the canyon widens, snakes around and narrows without warning. Eventually they come across another sign, this one made of wood with the letters burned in. "ARE YOU TIRED?" it asks.
Tristan smiles at the latest sign, then looks to Hannah. "M'lady?"
Minstrel Sam explains to Sir Tristan, loud enough that Hannah might be able to catch it. "See, me lord, goblins have this strange culture. They're very much about keepin' what's theirs, an' chargin' people what they see as cut-throat prices for anything - they'd charge you for the air if they could. So when they give each other somethin' nice, somethin' really nice, it's like... Oh... If you give a pretty lady a bouquet of flowers. It means you're... um..." He trails off and winks.
Hannah glances over at the knight. "If the bridge-keepers recognized Princess Grizelda's scent on the letter, it must mean that she's a goblin, too. So Greedle must be a goblin's settlement. And as Sam warned us, they're not known for the tastiness of their cuisine. No wonder Thomas didn't want this assignment!"
Tristan glances back at Sam. "... what? Oh, you must be joking."
"ARE YOU WORN?" asks the next sign they pass. The scenery changes a bit; the poisonous plants are mostly dead now.
"Goblins, huh? Just a bit o' advice then, Hannah, don't give a goblin anything," Minstrel Sam adds to Hannah, pretending to have missed Sir Tristan's question. "Haggle, too, they get suspicious if you don't complain about what they're charging. Want me to go over the finer points of hagglin'?"
Then he turns back to Hannah. "Ah, I take your meaning. It explains the terrain, as well. Perhaps we should let you do the negotiating, Minstrel."
"Oh, an' be sure to have a spittoon close enough to the table you can just dump dinner in it, when they're not lookin'," Sam suggests.
Someone has tried to spruce up the trail now. The next sign has a patch of corpse-flowers around it, along with their familiar aroma. "NO NEED TO WHINE," the sign proclaims.
The old bard laughs. "If ye want, but it's a good skill to have when ye're out and abroad."
Peaches manages to look offended by the sign. Apparently she can read, and thinks the sign is a personal insult or something. Not that she ever whines.
"Then by all means, my friend, educate us." Tristan looks alert and interested.
"Perhaps we can watch you conduct the first few transactions, Sam, as well as have you give us some pointers for later, if any of us have to haggle on our own," Hannah suggests. "I admit that this is not a skill at which I excel."
As if on cue, the next sign reads, "NO NEED TO NEEDLE."
"First thing first, watch the eyes," Sam advises, pointing to one of his own. "The pupil, it'll get wider when anyone's interested in what you've got. Listen for their breathin' too. S'why a lot of merchants have shiny stuff on their clothes or around their shops, they look at yer reflection in them, they can see yer eyes that way." He runs through a few more basics of haggling. "A lot's got to do with what kinda culture yer mark's from, too. Some places, you can't haggle right out loud, you gotta make it sound like you're giving 'em stuff out o' the goodness of your heart, not trading."
"And goblin culture is the opposite of that, I gather?" Tristan asks, after a glance ahead for more signs.
Sam nods wisely. "Oh, they'll take it easy on strangers, but I once heard two goblins haggle for hours about the price o' a chicken they'd stolen. An' you gotta remember, they like their food stinky an' their stuff grubby - it adds 'real character' for them. Makes a difference on valuin' what they really want."
"But these goblins, I dunno quite what to expect," adds the minstrel worriedly. "Typical goblins wouldn't write off to Tom for help. They'd run to Kings an' Queens, an' usually with 'the Terrible' or 'the Cruel' after the names."
Another sign is indeed head. "IT'S JUST AROUND THE BEND" it declares, with three exclamation points and an arrow.
"I see." Tristan nods to Sam, then continues to Hannah, "How much farther is it to Greedle, according to your map, Lady Hannah?"
Minstrel Sam adds thoughtfully, "Assumin' they really are goblins, an' the goblin at the bridge didn't happen to just have a good memory for smells. Lemme see that letter, Hannah?"
"Then I suppose we'll have to lay out a few of our other food items to get moldy and rotten, as well," Hannah muses. "So we have some things they'll want in trade." At the knight's question, she consults her maps. "As far as I can tell, not much further - although the signs would seem to indicate that as well."
Hannah takes out the letter again and offers it to Sam.
The bard looks it over, then takes a hesitant sniff at the page.
"Even if they're not, may well be we need to deal with more goblins. I doubt those two were the only ones in the kingdom. Actually ... they were atypically civil for goblins, weren't they? Perhaps I am biased; I have met far more on the battlefield than at the market, I fear," Sir Tristan says.
The minstrel shrugs, returning the letter. "If they're goblins, they've got surprisingly good penmanship an' spelling for goblins," he says. "But those roadsigns... Well, goblin merchants actually like that kind of thing."
Another smile from the fey knight. "Do goblin buyers like it too?"
Hannah appears to take all of this into account as she replaces the letter in her pouch. She rides forward with the Princess, around the bend in the road, lost in thought.
The final sign rests atop an actual signpost, announcing "WELCOME TO GREEDLE" in big friendly green letters. Below it are various signs pointing in various directions to such locales as Bog of Flatulence, Cesspit's Bar & Grill, Scavenger's Market and most importantly, Royal Palace. And beyond it is the grand city of Greedle. Unlike the name, and indeed, its denizens, Greedle is actually an impressive town. The goblins have carved into the sides of the canyon, building a series of terraces that each hold a level of the town. The lower levels are made up of rather battered and ugly buildings; makeshift construction and warped wood. But as the city goes higher, the buildings improve. At the very top is a rather ornate and well-carved 'palace'. While it is certainly not as large or as impressive as the seat of Mirari, for some goblins it might as well be.
"Sure, how else would they find someone they'd know would give them a proper haggle?" quips Sam.
Souhait pauses at the signpost, looking up. Sir Tristan does as well, and he looks impressed. "Did goblins build this? Quite a piece of work."
Minstrel Sam peers at the city. "Oh dear."
Hannah quirks an eyebrow at Sam. "Oh dear? Why don't I like the sound of that?"
A welcoming committee is approaching now. Or running, with plenty of shoving and tripping in an attempt to be the first there. "Toadying! Best toadies in town!" "Visit the Magic Mud Pits!" "Grankles Stables have the Best Hay!" All of the goblins try to out-shout one another as they swarm the new batch of potential customers. A hunchbacked old goblin woman waves what could have once been a cabbage at Hannah. "Prime leaf, with the juiciest caterpillars!"
The old faerie explains to Hannah, "Goblins have big families, an' they grow up pretty fast too. The only reason goblins don't overrun the world is 'cause they also get into lots of fights with each other, small tribes gettin' into quarrels, an' they cut each others' numbers down, when the trolls, giants, an' other unfriendlies aren't doing that for 'em. If this bunch has figured out how to keep a whole lot of goblins together... I hope they're a pretty peaceful bunch too."
Tristan considers Sam's words as he nudges Souhait forward, on the road leading to the palace. The Knightsteed tries to pick his way through the crowd without stepping on anyone.
No sooner has Sam given his lecture, than a fight breaks out among some of the goblin. "You did not just bit me!" one yells at tries to beat another to death with, apparently, a dead chicken.
Hannah pulls her mare up short and looks rather taken aback by the goblin horde. She tries to calm them - or at least stop the shouting - by saying, "Please, if you crowd our Knightsteeds, they may startle! We have come in answer to a summons by your Princess! We merely wish to go to the palace."
"I'll lead you!" the goblin offering toadying services claims, and starts clearing a path through the throng.
Edging Souhait to Hannah's side, Tristan murmurs, "Hiring the ... er ... toady may be the easiest route to go, in truth."
Peaches actually growls at any goblins that get too close to her and Hannah, which helps keep the immediate area clear at least.
Hannah looks back at Sam and mutters, "I hope you still have that pair of socks I asked you about earlier - we may need them as payment." Then she nods in response to Tristan's suggestion and replies, "My thought exactly." She also nods her agreement to the toadying goblin and follows after him.
The toady waves something before him to clear the crowd. It looks like.. a bouquet of roses? Whatever it is, it works. "I'm Skunky Murk, and I charge five GreezeBalls a day!" he announces.
Minstrel Sam haggles quickly with the goblin, offering the end-crust of a loaf for a start. "And the payment goes down if you spend too long, so better hurry it up!" he badgers.
"Bleh, I don't barter," Skunky Murk complains to Sam. "I'm a perfessional! You'd better get some Balls from a money changer on the way. I know one!"
"Who wants a toadie for an entire day?" complains the old bard. "You should be giving us GreezeBalls for our allowing you to enjoy our company. But very well, let's start with the money changer."
"And possibly a bag to carry them in," Tristan murmers. "I hope their currency isn't as unappealing as its name."