Consciousness slowly returned to the young goblin’s mind; the bliss of sleep had escaped his grasp, but the warmth surrounding him remained. Perhaps he had passed away and entered the next life, but it wasn't until he opened his eyes and saw the same stone walls that he realized he was still alive.

  Rising from the large cloth, he noticed the room had not changed since the last time he was there. The flames in the hearth were a little low; perhaps he should gather some wood from the forest outside. His tummy rumbled again, reminding him that a search for food would be good as well. Book firmly clenched in his arms, he stumbled into the corridor. To his surprise, the hallway was no longer barren but had several wooden doors lining the path.

  “I’ll explore these after I gather some wood,” he spoke to no one in particular as he headed for the exit. The once-open passage now had a large wrought-iron door. Frowning, the goblin approached the metal door and tried to push it open. Nothing. Perhaps I need to pull? He thought. Nothing again.

  Looking at his frail limbs, he wasn’t surprised that the door did not budge. However, he felt that perhaps he was not meant to leave. As he turned around and saw the new doors once more, he thought, "Perhaps the owner will come back soon." He decided to be optimistic; after all, whoever was in charge here had spared him once. He went back into the main room. “Hopefully, the fire will keep going till they get back,” he said aloud as he went to the table.

  The empty bowl and weird device still sat there. With nothing to do, he decided to read until whoever was in charge came back. With no reference to time, the young goblin sat and read, regularly checking the doorway for the arrival of the homeowner. He managed to read and re-read the book many times before he began to question if anyone was coming. Eventually, his hunger and thirst began to overwhelm his patience. Goblins are famously voracious (in many ways); even he, probably the most patient goblin in the world, couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided to explore.

  Returning to the hallway, he decided to explore the wooden doors. He approached the first door and gently pushed it; even with his feeble strength, it easily opened. Carefully peering around the doorway, he was stunned to see a massive underground lake. Excitedly, he approached the lake, carefully set the book away from the water, and then dunked his head into the lake, greedily drinking his fill. He could see fish swimming through the crystal-clear waters and eyed them hungrily.

  One got close, and he took his chance, lunging with his hands outstretched. The fish easily evaded his long, slender fingers and swam back into the depths. The soaking wet goblin grumbled as he waded out of the lake. Another growl from his stomach redoubled his focus on finding food.

  Redirecting his gaze to the banks of the underground lake, he saw plentiful mushrooms. He recognized many of them as safe to eat. He hungrily began grabbing and shoveling them into his mouth, almost forgetting to chew. While not as pleasing as the broth he had before, the earthy flavor was nostalgic of home. He ate his fill from the patch of fungi and only stopped after he was covered in dirt. To prevent damaging his precious book, he decided to clean himself in the lake.

  Only after he religiously scrubbed and allowed himself to dry off did he pick up his precious book. He took a second to stand along the black-sand beach and take in the sight. Bioluminescent fungi grew from the ceiling, gently illuminating the landscape.

  Remembering that he was in an unknown place, he hastily retreated back to the corridor. Perhaps he could explore more at another time, he thought as he passed through the wooden door once more. He breathed a sigh of relief after returning to the safety of his temporary shelter. There were still three more doors to explore.

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  Hesitantly, he made his way to the door opposite him. Once more braving the unknown, he pushed on the door, but it refused to budge. Perhaps he was not meant to go in there, he thought, still believing someone was orchestrating all of this. Moving to the set of doors further down the hall, he started with the one on the right. It was a small, mostly empty room. The only fixture within was a small, two-shelf bookcase. On closer inspection, he saw a fair number of books lined along the shelves.

  The goblin, while happy with his book, couldn't help but eye the collection before him. He approached the bookcase and reached out his hand to the first book. The cover was written in the language of humans, with the title “The Habitation Handbook: Abode-able Advice.”

  The goblin tried to read the new book with one hand, but his efforts yielded poor results. He decided to wobble out of the room, the two books awkwardly tucked under his thin, knobbly arms. It didn’t take him long to make it back to the main room, despite his stubby little legs.

  He returned to the large, fluffy cloth on the ground. He could read at the table, but he might as well read in comfort. He hesitantly set down his precious book; he almost felt dirty opening up the new book. The goblin almost felt like he was cheating on the love of his life with a temptress, but his urge to read overwhelmed those guilty feelings.

  He began to read, slowly at first, savoring the smell and feel of every page turn. His gaze lingered on the diagrams; he saw them using strange devices to do things around their homes. He saw a weird stick with straw stuck to the end. The humans in the diagram moved it back and forth to collect dirt off the ground. Apparently, it was called a broom. He also learned that the weird bowl on a stick he ate the broth with was called a spoon.

  The goblin was in awe of the ingenuity of humans; greenskins like him generally just hit things until they worked. They even have this weird thing called a latrine. Humans apparently went to the bathroom there instead of just wherever.

  Maybe that's why goblins were always treated like they were the filthiest things around. He suddenly got self-conscious of his filthy loincloth; he was lucky he even got to keep it after being kicked out of the tribe. Goblins didn’t create things; they appropriated them. “I’ll need to clean up somehow,” he thought.

  The goblin didn’t want to make whoever owned this place mad. Well, he would worry about it when it came up. He kept reading for a good amount of time, but a feeling began to well up in him. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom since his arrival here, and the familiar urge was coming.

  He definitely felt the usual goblin method of relief would not be appreciated by the owner of this place. Flipping back through the Habitation Handbook, he found the section about the bathroom. “Hopefully that other unlocked room is what I think it is.” The goblin thought aloud as he got up and wandered over to the unlocked door, and paydirt!

  Flipping through the book's contents, he attempted to navigate the complexities of human bathroom etiquette. After solving his most immediate problem, he moved on to explore the other fixtures in the room. There was a giant bowl filled with water that was slightly steaming; apparently, this was known as a bath by humans. Luckily, like the table, most of the stuff in the bathroom was appropriate to his size. His host was most gracious in this aspect.

  The goblin scrubbed and scrubbed. He also took the liberty to scrub his loincloth as well. By the time he left the tub, the crystal-clear water had turned gray and murky. The dark brown loincloth had become light tan in color. He did his best to wipe the excess fluid from his body but was still damp despite his efforts. Luckily, he placed his books in a safe, dry spot before he began his bath. Afraid to get his books wet, the goblin patiently stood in place until he was sufficiently dry. Grabbing the books, he waddled out of the bathroom.

  He stumbled into the hallway and was greeted by a surprise; the fourth door was ajar. The goblin couldn’t help but check out the anomaly. Pushing the door open, he was greeted with a small room filled with a large number of strange instruments. He recognized several of the instruments; there was what humans call a broom, a mop, and several other home-tending items. The goblin looked at the handbook, then at the tools, and then at the cobwebs around the structure. A smile slowly grew on his face as he realized what he needed to do. He had to get to work!