Fear Gorta

Hobbs sat at the head of his cart, spurring forward the haggard horse that drew their currently meager bounty. Casten had not been good for business, and Hobbs had not been able to trade for much even though the early summer was often his most lucrative period. The biggest find was the young fellow walking alongside his cart. A vagrant from the previous town, the boy had proved surprisingly helpful. 
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Master Hobbs?” The youngling asked. “The man at the inn said this road is abandoned. He said the Hungry Man, Fear Gorta lurks here, and that is why nobody comes.” And true enough, Hobbs, Aod, and the horse were the only three in sight on the forest road. 
“Worry not, son,” Hobbs said. “You travel long enough, you learn to ignore what old wives and provincial folk say. Tell me, Aod, do you suppose that man has ever in his life left Casten?” 
“I don’t suppose he has,” Aod said. 
“That’s right,” Hobbs waved his arm dismissively. “So what shall he tell me of what he has never seen?” 
The cart continued along the road.
Hobbs tightened his cloak against the morning chill. Fog hang heavy upon the forest road. Hobbs could barely see the horse or his apprentice, but could hear Aod trying to calm the nervous beast. At least it was still tethered to the cart. At least it was still lashed to the cart. Hobbs approached. The animal looked like it was about to bolt. “What’s gotten into her?”  The wind howled, yet the mist seemed to form a uniform blanket upon the forest road. He stepped closer, and heard a snap. The horse squealed, and took off at gallop. 
“Damn it.” Hobbs watched the horse run off into the mist. Aod ran after. The horse would hopefully tire herself out long before the orphan boy. He turned to the cart. The rope had somehow snapped off at the shaft. He reached into the cart, and stumbled. The cart tipped over, upending it’s contents onto the road. Hobbs picked himself up, clambering to his feet. He turned around. Fiery eyes stared at him from the woods across. He screamed, and ran into the forest. 

“Someone ran through here,” said the first voice, half-whispering. 
“Clearly a man,” said the second, chirping and melodic. The pair made their way down the hill, peering back into the small cavern at its foot. Hobbs looked up. A large man cloaked in bear hide looked down at him. Next to him, floating at shoulder level was a stranger creature, a pudgy, hairy gnome no taller than a foot, with goat’s feet and small angel wings. It was a creature that by most reckonings had been driven from these lands centuries ago. 
“Strange place to find a stranger,” the bear-pelted man said, holding one hand out to Hobbs.
“I am Hamish of the Craggs.”
Hobbs took the hand, crawling out of the cavern and rising to his feet. “I am Hobbs, a man of the road.”
“You are not on the road,” Hamish said, raising an eyebrow. The younger man towered a head above Hobbs.
Hobbs hesitated.  “A monster drove me off the road.“ 
“Fear Gorta!” the goat-gnome exclaimed. “He has met the monster his fathers created!” The goat-gnome dashed forward, flying in a circle around Hobbs’ head. “They have been made to hunger, now they shall eat you and yours!” The creature chirped. 
“What is it talking about?” Hobbs asked, batting at the sides of his head. The gnome deftly evaded his hands. 
“Forgive me, he is suspicious of men.” Hamish bowed slightly. 
“We should leave him here,” the gnome hissed, returning to Hamish’s shoulder. “Fear Gorta still lurks.” 
Hobbs looked up at Hamish. “You can’t do that, can you?” he whispered. 
“That choice is not mine to make,” he said. He turned to the gnome. “This is an innocent man.” 
“No! No, no, no, no!” The creature seemed to jump up and down in the air. “We trusted men once, and we suffered greatly. He must not leave here to tell we still live!” 
“He will not,” Hamish said, staring down the small creature who met his gaze. “You trust me with this, I ask that you extend this trust to him.” 
The gnome batted his wings. “You had me in your power and released me,” his tone softened. “This is a stranger. Cannot be trusted.” 
“Look!” Hobbs exclaimed. “I will swear it. ” 
“And what does your oath matter to me?” The gnome flew up to Hobbs’ face. Hobbs held up his anchor necklace. 
“I, Hobbs, swear to you that I shall not speak to any living soul of your existence. I shall neither write, nor sing, nor sign of it. In Aine’s name I swear this, and if I am false, may I freeze into a statue upon the next crossroads.” He let go of Aine’s symbol, and let it hang freely again. The gnome looked dismayed. 
“He believes it as I do,” Hamish said. The gnome’s wings batted slowly. 
“Fine then,” the gnome said.
Hobbs followed the man in the bear pelt out of the forest. The village of the Craggs opened before him, all thatch cottages and huts. 
“I must warn you to not go back for your cart,” Hamish said, walking a step ahead of Hobbs. The merchant frowned. He would have little to trade for, and worst of all, Aod and the horse had also run off. He followed Hamish to the village square. There, he saw Aod, brushing the mare that had run off earlier that day. 
“Aod!” he shouted. “How did you get here?” He hustled past Hamish. 
“I followed her,” he pointed at the mare. “What about you?” 
“Mr. Hamish here found me.” Hobbs smiled. “It’s a long story.” 
A story that he would never be able to tell.
END