Quiet and Chaos

The Goblin King appreciates silence.

The Goblins don't, of course, but he doesn't expect them to and doesn't ask them to try to understand his need for silence, though he wishes that sometimes they'd gift him with a few moments of it. Just a few, and not often, is all he needs.

The Goblins thrive on chaos, but the King luxuriates in those few moments of silence he snatches, savoring them like fine wine or dark chocolate – rare and sumptuous and far too rich for casual occurrences – as much for the silence itself as the contrast between it and the ordinary chaos of the Underground.

Today he craves the silence, needs it more than the usual tumult of sound and magic that fills the Underground, so he arranges for a viceroy to take charge of his kingdom for a few hours and wings his way Aboveground.

The wind rushes over him, around him, the air cuts and diffuses and quiets as it flows over his serrated wing feathers – this silence in motion, in practical, predatory application, is a great deal of why he loves to take this form, creating entropy while maintaining the silence.

Sarah Williams appreciates several things – silence, a fine summer day, a good book, and clean laundry.

Because she appreciates these, she makes a face at the clunky, rumbling clothes drier and takes her fresh laundry outside to hang them on the three old-fashioned clotheslines. When she finishes, she drags over a lawn chair and runs inside to get her book and a glass of iced tea.

She settles in, basking in the sun and appreciatively scenting the breeze, which smells like cut grass and clean laundry, before taking a sip of her tea and burying herself into her book.

He arrives while she's darting about inside, eager to return to her chair in the sun and the breeze. While she settles, he considers, thinking about silence and chaos and how well they go together when an urge comes over him.

It isn't a strong urge, more like an enticing whim, and he examines it while she reads the first ten pages.

The whim becomes an idea which evolves into a plan, a rudimentary one, to be sure, but a plan nonetheless, and then those silent wings whisk him up on the breeze to circle above his target so he can refine his plan.

She made a tactical error by sitting beneath the laundry lines, he thinks. Perhaps she hoped the sheets would hide her, should her stepmother begin looking for another set of hands to do chores, or perhaps she wanted the shade or the scent of laundry soap. He doesn't really care why she did it, but it makes her vulnerable and conceals him while he works.

Owl talons, he admits to himself ruefully, aren't ideal for manipulating clothesline, especially when the line is tied in such tight, precise knots. However, he is set upon this endeavor and determined not to use magic for this mischief. He takes his time, stubbornly and painstakingly picking apart the knots and gathering up the lines, while she finishes the first two chapters and starts on her third. He snickers internally at the soft sound of cloth caught up on a breeze, which covers whatever sounds he makes while he steadily, meticulously works.

Once he has the clothes lines all gathered up, he clenches them tightly in his talons and launches himself into the wind.

His feathers barely whisper as he takes flight – the suddenly caught up sheets and clothes aren't nearly so quiet. Sarah's head snaps up from her book and she watches as he flies towards her, the clothesline half trailing behind him and half still tied up behind her. He watches the dawning comprehension on her face as he swoops down and tosses the clotheslines over her. The near-silence breaks as she sputters and screeches in outrage and yells threats at his retreating figure as he flies off.

Riding high upon the winds and well out of her reach, the Goblin King contemplates chaos. He has ruled the Goblins long enough to pick up on the finer forms of chaos, to thrive on it the way they do, and to twist it together with his beloved silence.

He ruffles his feathers, quite satisfied with his work, and makes the long, lazy, winding flight home.

Oro: A lazy, amusing story. I like imagining the look on Sarah's face when she realizes that she has to rewash all her laundry because the Goblin King has a twisted sense of humor.

Hob: This one was on me!

Quill: (angry grumbling)

Disclaimer: The author of this story doesn't own - (is pounced upon by an irritated Quill) -aak!

Oro: So I decided to try using the present tense - do y'all think that worked alright? Well, we'll see you soon, won't we, owls? ... Quill, please tell me you didn't shred the disclaimer...