We have been walking for hours. Sigyn, my beloved, let us sit down and rest a while. (She’s a brave soul and would continue to soldier on if I didn’t periodically feign weariness and request a halt.)
Rocks are a little hard on the bottom, but it’s a bit better than sitting in the dirt.
Shhh! I think I hear something! What’s that, off in the distance?
Hold! Who goes there?
Fenrir’s Fleacollar! Sigyn, look! It’s one of the little Goobers. The Goobers have found us! We’re saved! What was this one’s name again? Um… Yennerp, wasn’t it?
Oh. No. This one with the purple horns is Yennerp.
The little fellow is Snerxx. He hasn’t grown any, has he?
And look who else is here! Burble, old friend, how have you been?
Uh, oh. Is that who I think it is, sliming in over there?
Ill-met indeed, Iggle-Nix, you sleazy bastard.
You spent our entire last sojourn among your kind leering at my sweetie, and by the look in your bulbous eyes, you haven’t given up being a total sleaze. You and I will have words before the is done. Count on it.
The Goobers understand us but don’t speak anything we can comprehend. It’s time for some yes-ing and no-ing.
“Do you remember us?” Yes.
“Are you willing to help us again?” Yes.
“Can you take us to your leader, the one we call the Great Goober?” Yes.”
“Iggle-Nix, are you going to cut it out, or do I need to introduce you to Gungnir?” No.
(I expected as much. Grr.)
Well, Goobers lead on. The sooner we reach the palace, the sooner we can eat, drink, and wash up. We’ve been out here in the waste baking long enough!