Chapter 233 Sweet Dreams in Goblinland

In the dim glow of the campfire, Hermit clumsily arranged his collection of herbs on a flat rock, the makeshift tabletop for his primitive alchemical work. The herbs - Willowbark, Glowfern, Firefly's Delight flower, Shade Moss, and the infamous Stingleaf Herb - lay before him, each holding a promise of relief from his aching wounds.

He started by crushing the "Glowfern" with a nearby rock, muttering, "Crushy, crushy. Make it gooey, just like Kaka used to make." His efforts were a mix of determination and naivety as he mashed the luminescent plant into a pulpy mess, the faint glow emanating from the crushed fern.

Next, he took the Willowbark, its rough texture signaling its potent pain-relieving properties. Hermit pounded it with a tiny stone, creating a coarse powder.

"Bark... barky-bark. Good for hurts," he mumbled, the rhythmic sound of stone against bark echoing in the quiet forest.

After the bark came the delicate Firefly's Delight flower, its petals shimmering in the firelight. Hermit plucked the petals with careful consideration, muttering, "Fireflower... pretty. Good for medicine, make Hermit feel better in no time." He crushed the petals between two rocks, releasing a faint, sweet, floral aroma into the night air.

The Shade Moss, a mysterious tuft of green, came next. Hermit handled it with caution, aware of its reputation for soothing and cooling properties. He tore it into small shreds with his teeth, occasionally pausing to spit out a leaf or two and the stinky parts.

"Shady moss... softy-soft. Cool Hermit's pain but need to be careful not to stink my breath," he whispered, his words barely audible over the crackling of the campfire.

Then, the notorious Stingleaf Herb took center stage. Hermit approached it gingerly, remembering the stinging encounter from earlier. With a mix of fear and anxiety, he ground the herb between two rocks, wincing at the occasional prickle.

"Stingleaf... stingy but good. Make Hermit numb, not hurt."

With all the components prepared, Hermit attempted to mix them, his small hands clumsily combining the crushed and ground herbs. The result was a rudimentary herbal paste that exuded a peculiar, sweet fragrance.

"Mixy-mix. Goblins special medicine. Strong like a warrior," he yelped, presenting the herbal paste with pride. He scooped a bit onto his fingers, hesitated for a moment, and then began to rub it onto his injuries. The paste felt cool and comforting against his wounds, and Hermit couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh.

As Hermit applied his makeshift herbal paste to his wounds, little did he know that his concoction, rather than being a healing balm, was a deadly poison. Unbeknownst to him, each ingredient he had chosen was among the most toxic flora in the entire forest, he completely mistook them for the correct herbs because of the dark. For an average person, contact with this lethal paste would have been a death sentence, with demise only a few minutes away, resulting in a complete nervous system shutdown.

However, the unique resilience of goblins, forged in the crucible of their wretched living conditions, granted them an astonishing immunity to poisons. The filth, the squalor, and the constant exposure to noxious substances and a diet consisting of feces since their hatching granted goblins a natural resistance to toxins that surpassed that of most other creatures.

The poisonous mixture did not accelerate Hermit's healing; instead, it temporarily numbed his senses by paralyzing his nervous system. It was a brief respite from the pain, as the toxic properties of the concoction created a deceptive sensation of relief. The goblin, blissfully ignorant of the true nature of his homemade medicine, continued to apply the poison to his crotch, believing he was aiding his recovery.

As Hermit finished smearing the peculiar paste on his injured crotch, a deceptive sense of relief enveloped him. The numbing effect temporarily dulled the pain, providing a fleeting respite. Seeking comfort, he curled up close to the crackling fire, attempting to escape the night's chill. His thumb instinctively found its way to his quivering lips, and, while sucking his thumb, he succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

Meanwhile, Suzuka took the night watch, her eyes scanning the darkness for any potential threats. She couldn't help but feel irritated by the goblin's peaceful slumber. The forest echoed with the sounds of the night - the rustling leaves, the distant hoots of owls, and the soft gurgle of a nearby stream. However, above all, what grated on Suzuka's nerves was the incessant chomping and slurping noises emanating from the sleeping goblin.

Suzuka, irritated by the constant chomping and slurping sounds, decided to stop his slurping. Gently, she reached over and pulled Hermit's hand, pulling his thumb from his mouth. The goblin, still lost in the realm of dreams, winced with a child-like cry. In a reflexive response, he jammed his thumb back into his mouth, seeking the familiar comfort that allowed him to navigate the dream world undisturbed.

 Suzuka sighed, realizing that interrupting Hermit's thumb-sucking habit was a futile effort. The rhythmic sounds continued, blending with the night.

With the arrival of the morning sun, the forest stirred with life, and so did the restless goblin. In the twilight between dreams and wakefulness, Hermit thrashed about in his sleep. As the first rays of light filtered through the trees, he stirred, extending his limbs in a languid stretch. The rhythmic chomping and occasional lip-licking continued, creating a peculiar morning melody.

Groggily, as if emerging from the mist of dreams, Hermit stood up. He rubbed his eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to his form. With a gaping mouth that seemed impossibly wide, he let out a cavernous yawn, the echoes of his goblin-sized yawn reverberating through the quiet morning forest.

 As the morning light filtered through the trees, Suzuka observed Hermit's groggy awakening. The goblin, still caught in the haze of sleep, yawned widely, revealing rows of blunt, tiny teeth.

Suzuka, with a wry smile, teased, "Well, good morning, Hermit. Did you have sweet dreams in Goblinland?"

Hermit, his voice drowsy and muffled by his thumb, mumbled, "Mmm... Morning, Master. Mmm, yes, Master. Dreamed of big piles of shiny rocks and a feast of... of tasty slugs. Dreams... cheese... maybe both."

Suzuka, unable to suppress a chuckle.

 "Slugs, huh? It sounds like something you would enjoy eating. Well then, ready to face the day, or do you need another thumb-sucking session first?"

Hermit, still rubbing his eyes, replied with a contented sigh, "No, no, Master. Hermit is ready to lead the way! And maybe... a slug or two for breakfast?"

Suzuka said, rolling her eyes, "Always thinking about food. Fine, let's get something to eat, and then we go."

Feeling remarkably better after the night's rest, Hermit's energy seemed renewed. His once-nibbled crotch had healed overnight, and with a newfound vitality, the goblin eagerly scuttled around the camp. His tiny hands rolled rocks, revealing hidden treasures of crunchy bugs beneath. With unbridled delight, Hermit stuffed his mouth with the squirming delicacies, emitting a chorus of enthusiastic munching sounds.

"Mmm, crunchy bugsies! Good for Hermit's tummy! Oh, look at this big one! Big bug! Yum, yum! Squishy and juicy! Yumies, yumies! Ah, crunchy bugsies! Ghegege! So squishy!" he mumbled with sheer delight, his mouth full, as he chomped on the unsuspecting insects, punctuated by the satisfying crunches of the bugs that met their fate between the goblin's tiny teeth. With his tiny hands, he picked up another rock and uncovered a particularly fat bug. 

"Look at this one! Extra crunchy, extra tasty!" he declared, holding the bug up as if showcasing a culinary masterpiece.

Satisfied with his bug-filled breakfast, Hermit's attention turned to quenching his thirst. With swift scuttles, he sought out a puddle of water nearby. Upon finding it, he plopped down on the ground and eagerly lapped up the water, his tiny tongue working in a frenzy. The goblin's thirst was soon quenched, and he stood up with a satisfied sigh.

Having indulged in both a bug feast and a refreshing drink, Hermit scampered back to where Suzuka was packing their belongings. With a proud expression, he declared, "Hermit's ready to go, Master! All fueled up and ready to lead the way!"

Suzuka's swift journey through the forest had been driven by a sense of urgency, and the sun was beginning its descent by the time they reached the town. The fading daylight cast long shadows as they hurried through the streets, and just as the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, they entered the Mystic Oasis Inn.

With the door of her room closing behind them, Suzuka's weariness became visible. Four days without any rest had taken a slight toll on her, but she pressed on. Her gaze fell upon the bed, a sanctuary promising much-needed rest. Without a second thought, she walked toward it, still clutching the goblin in her hand.

In a moment of tired frustration, Suzuka tossed Hermit to the side, his small form tumbling with a wince. The room was plunged into darkness as the door closed, and the goblin, now on the floor, felt a mix of relief and discomfort. 

His small fingers gingerly probed the spot where the pain throbbed the most, and he winced again.

 "Master must be so tired. Maybe Hermit shouldn't bother Master with his pain. Goblins endure. Goblins endure," he repeated softly, a mantra to steel himself against the disappointment.

Suzuka's weariness had led to a momentary lapse in her usual careful handling of the goblin, and Hermit, though accustomed to his master's occasional roughness, couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt from the sudden toss.

She barely spared a glance at the goblin as she collapsed onto her bed. The soft mattress embraced her tired body, providing a momentary respite from the demands of the journey. She sighed, the weariness settling into her body, and closed her eyes, ready to succumb to the embrace of much-needed sleep.

Meanwhile, Hermit, despite the rough landing, quickly gathered himself. With an almost comical shake of his tiny head, he scampered toward Suzuka's bed, finding solace in his makeshift sanctuary beneath her bed. Hermit let out a contented sigh, the weariness of the journey showing in the slump of his shoulders. With his thumb instinctively finding its way to his quivering lips, he mumbled to himself in a mixture of goblin language and fragmented words.

"M-master... good... sleepy... safe..." His tiny green fingers traced patterns on the floor as he mumbled, his simple mind finding solace in the nearness of his master. The events of the day, the dangers faced, and the pain endured seemed to fade away as he settled into his pillow and warm blanket, ready to succumb to the calmness of the night.