“So Beeg, what do you want to know?”

  I set down my mug and reached under my cloak to unhook my wooden leg, groaning in satisfaction as I leaned back into the chair.

  It had been a long day.

  Vaarg watched silently, steadily sipping from his mug. What he was thinking, I had no idea.

  I lowered my hood and adjusted my eyepatch, letting my now shoulder length hair fall free. It was getting to the annoying length again — I’d have to stop by and see Jenk.

  “The eye is gone, but I can see if something might be done about your leg,” Vaarg said suddenly. “Something more comfortable than what you currently have, at the very least.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Not too long ago you wanted me to replace it with a rubber mallet.”

  My voice came out dry enough it almost sounded like It.

  … I was rather proud.

  “I never said that.”

  “… You literally said exactly that.”

  Vaarg slowly sipped from his mug. “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Vaarg, do you have to be so irritating,” I huffed.

  He smiled and snorted, coughing when his goo stung his nose.

  “Humor me. I don’t often get someone willing to stand up to me that I actually enjoy talking with.”

  Was that… was that a compliment?

  I narrowed my eye.

  “So, leg?” he asked innocently.

  I shrugged. “It suits me fine, truth be told. I hated it at first, but it has become a part of me. When the time is right, I will find a way to do something about it.”

  I could have sworn he smiled in approval.

  Why did every conversation with him have to be so exhausting?

  “So, Stupid?” I asked, sipping my own mug.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Earlier, what did you do to her?”

  He sighed.

  “Her past is not mine to give, Beeg.”

  He raised a finger to forestall my protest.

  “I help her forget. Find peace. Her mind is… “

  He looked around, searching for the word.

  “Childlike,” he gestured vaguely.

  “So you took her past?” I asked incredulously.

  ”I took nothing. It is still hers.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not perfect, Beeg. But it was that —

  Or she broke.

  I chose the option that let her stay.”

  I exhaled. “Then why call her such a cruel name?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Her name is Stupid. Why would you call her that, if you ‘cared’? Why couldn’t she keep her own name?”

  I couldn’t tell if I was angry or sad.

  I had no idea what I was right now.

  But… that wasn’t true.

  I was upset because I cared about her.

  Vaarg looked at me in surprise. “I didn’t choose her name, Beeg,” he responded.

  What?

  “Beeg, what is your name?”

  I drew up short. “Beeg. Obviously.”

  “You weren’t born here,” he grunted. “I meant your name. From before.”

  “It’s… “

  I paused.

  Then I froze.

  I stared at Vaarg quietly, shadows flickering softly across our faces.

  “I don’t remember,” I whispered. “Why don’t I remember?”

  Vaarg conjured a fresh mug of goo for himself, replenishing my mug as well.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters,” I spluttered. “Did you take — ?”

  He raised a hand.

  ”No. I did not take your name.”

  He winced and took a moment to sip his goo before continuing.

  “You chose to forget because it was no longer important.”

  I eyed him, not sure I believed him.

  “Let me word it differently. Who are you?”

  “I… I’m Beeg?”

  It came out a question. But I knew it was a statement. I was Beeg now.

  Vaarg nodded.

  “That’s right. You are Beeg because you chose to be.” He set his mug down.

  “And she is Stupid.”

  I slumped back into my chair, lightheaded.

  “You’re right…” I mumbled.

  “I am aware,” he acquiesced.

  He groaned as he lifted himself from the chair. Absently, I wondered why he didn’t just float.

  “Get home soon,” he huffed.

  “Did you mean it?” I asked suddenly. He raised an eyebrow.

  “That you enjoy speaking with me?”

  Vaarg huffed.

  “You get one last answer from me — is that the one you want?”

  I smiled, somehow not offended. The lack of an answer was answer enough.

  “Name?” I asked instead. “Can I at least know her name?”

  He regarded me. “Again, does it matter?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “It does to me. I want to know my friend as a name other than Stupid.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder — the kindest gesture I had ever received from him.

  “The world thinks of goblins as little more than animals. Creatures of filth, little better than scavengers and thieves.”

  He sighed. “They are not entirely wrong. They are not completely right either.”

  He lifted his hand and turned for the door.

  “Her name means ‘Star-child’,” he whispered, turning the door handle.

  “Elara.”

  I drew up short.

  It was… surprisingly noble?

  Beautiful even.

  And yet she still felt like Stupid.

  ”Vaarg,” I called suddenly.

  But the door was almost closed. I sighed.

  ”Yes?” his voice floated through.

  ”Why — why am I here?” I whispered.

  He remained silent long enough I thought he had left.

  But I was wrong.

  ”One question, Beeg,” he whispered.

  Then the door clicked shut, and I was alone.