Duval Estate.

What a mess, Morty thought as he stared out at the once wide open and relatively cleared field. Now it had a massive genepool dead center of it bubbling and spitting goblins every second or so, then there were the dead and crispy bodies of the trolls that were in some cases still burning as his flamethrower goblins went around and made sure they burned until they were nothing but ash.

Then there were the piles of green troll shit that littered the ground, Morty thought as he nearly stepped in a pile bigger than his head! He sneered as a drague rushed over and shoveled it into a bucket before shuffling off to clean another fly infested pile.

Then there was the giant body of the eaten, atein, whatever. Morty contemplated having it pushed into the spawning pool to see what he might be able to get out of it. Maybe carve it up and sell it for meat? Though if the smell when it was alive was anything to go by it probably wasn't a good idea and was more than likely to make people sick or even dead.

This of course was moot thinking given the body was fucking GONE, Morty thought angerly as he stared at the spot the body USED to be. A 13-15ft tall, two-headed, monster that weighted a ton at least. Just gone overnight! His men didn't see or a hear a thing! Just one minute they were watching the field and the next POOF! Gone!

On top of that the trolls have all fucked off elsewhere and so his little army of bullets sponges were in the wind. The only good thing that could be said of this latest headache was that using the goblins spawning as a constant source of manpower was a success.

Other than that it was a complete bust.

Morty walked over to the pool. Surely the trolls that fell in were long dead right, he thought as he stared down at the bubbling green ooze even as goblins dragged themselves up out the lake. Though he could swear that some of them looked a little... meatier that normal.

Morty was so distracted by the bulky goblins that crawled out he barely noticed the fairly large hand that grabbed onto his leg! Which he totally didn't scream like a girl once again and dropping his bourbon glass. The sisters were quick to help Morty in not being dragged down into the ooze. One grabbed and pulled Morty while the other stomped down on the limb.

Even as the limb broke off of whatever it was attached to, the rest of it pulled itself out of the genepool. It was a troll! Sorta.

The creature had the body of a stone troll but the head looked more like a goblin with a large pointed nose, bat-like ears, squinty yellow eyes, and a prominent underbite instead of the overbite of the trolls filled with sharp pointed yellow teeth.

The troll-goblin thing also wasn't near as big as a troll was. It was a head or so shorter than the ogres were even if it stood straight and didn't slouch. Still bigger than Morty, the goblins, and the Red Caps.

The thing looked around dumbly like it wasn't sure where it was, first it squinted at Morty and the sisters, then it looked down at its still bleeding arm. It grunted like it wasn't sure what to do at first. It scratched its bumpy green scalp with yellowed nails as it stared at the severed limb.

Also unlike the trolls, the limb wasn't acting like it had a mind of its own and was instead laying still as dead as it could get. The thing let out an unintelligent moan as it stared at its stump once more. Its face scrunched up and groaned as it seemed like it was concentrating on something.

Before Morty's eyes the limb regrew! Slowly, very very slowly. After watching it for a few minutes that quickly grew boring, the only thing it was able to regrow was about a few inches to its wrist. It also stopped the bleeding at least. The sisters watched the whole fiasco like it was a bomb ready to go off. Morty watched with an expression of boredom as a replacement drink was handed to him by a goblin.

They all waited for the creature to finish healing its arm, which it smiled dumbly at its accomplishment before looking around at the assembled goblins with flamethrowers pointed at it.

"Any of you mind telling me what that is?" Morty asked the ogres.

But the thing answered for them.

"Troll!"

The group looked at the troll as it spoke. Then it got a confused look on its face as it scratched its head again.

"Er, no."

"Gobin!" It cheered. Before looking confused again and scratched its head once more.

"Troll. Gobin. Troll? Gobin?" It muttered to itself even as it started to go cross-eyed.

"Trog?" Morty said aloud.

"Trog?" The troll-goblin asked dumbly as it squinted at Morty.

Then the "trog" smiled and clapped as it cheered.

"Trog! Trog!"

It laughed and clapped while the sisters leaned towards Morty.

"That's not a trog."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"Trogs are primitive humanoid creatures that live in dark caves and tunnels and are little better than animals."

"They also look like apes."

Morty looked back to the trog that still clapped and laughed. Unaware or uncaring at the surrounding flammengoblins.

"Well, he's MY trog! I'll be damned if we go through this whole mess and don't get SOMETHING out of it!"

Morty turned to the "trog" as yet another pulled itself out of the pool and stared around dumbly.

"Troll?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Holy shit they're dumber than trolls or goblins, Morty thought as the two trogs stared at one another.

"Gobin?" The second pointed to itself.

"Er... no?" The first said unsure.

Morty whistled to get both their attention.

"Hello new recruits!"

"Re-krut?"

"Not trog?"

"No, you ARE trogs! And you are MY trogs!" Morty declared.

"Aw, want be re-krut." The second trog said sadly.

"You are a re-krut, I mean, recruit!"

"No trog?" The first said sadly.

"No! You are BOTH recruits AND both trogs!"

The two scratched their heads confused. Morty hissed in frustration and pointed to the first one.

"YOU are a trog!"

He pointed to the second one.

"YOU are a trog!"

He stepped back.

"YOU are BOTH recruits!"

They both scratched their heads as their squinty eyes crossed.

"Er... den who trog?"

Morty groaned in frustration.

"Get a Red Cap over here so he can deal with this!"

One of the goblins saluted and ran to find a Red Cap officer even as a third one crawled out of the ooze.

"Troll?"

"No, re-krut." The second said.

"Trog... maybe?" The first said unsure.

"Gobin?" The third asked as it scratched its head.

Morty could feel his brain melting from this whole encounter.

-----

Just outside of Somewhere.

"One for you. Next." Sheriff Steinburg said as he passed out rations while his deputies passed out prefab units from the three metal cargo containers that the Major General had sent them.

The Sheriff looked down to a pointed eared little girl that sneezed and coughed as she and her family walked over.

"Food and medicine."

He turned and looked into the container, the very bare container. He bit back a curse and went into the metal storage to root around through worryingly empty boxes. He cursed aloud as he grew increasingly downcast. He sighed with relief as he fished out a case of MREs and some cold medicine.

But that would be the last of it, Miles thought as he trudged back to the front of the container. He handed the food and medicine to the elvish family.

"Take this twice a day."

The family bowed their heads and left. Sheriff Miles looked at the line behind them. The long line.

"Shit."

Miles coughed as the next in line. A haggard old man that looked to be on his last legs.

"Sorry folks! But there isn't anymore!"

"What?! But you promised us aid!"

"I know! And I am sorry! But we no longe-"

"Yer lyin'! Out of tha way!" The old man, suddenly not so haggard looking, pushed past him, as did many others in the line.

The sheriff backed away as dozens of people tried to crowd into the cargo container to search for whatever little scraps they had left. His deputies weren't much better as heated blankets and the last of the prefab shelters were given away and those left without rushed the containers. Those that had gotten things had quickly ran away before the mob could target them and steal what they had.

Davey tried to stop them, but Marc pulled him out of the way before he could get trampled. The three watched and helped some people get away from the mob before they could get trampled as well. Eventually though the crowd dispersed with grumbles, curses, and coughs.

"What do we do now?" Davey asked.

"We... get back to the station and do our jobs." Miles said dejectedly.

The three got into the two cruisers they had. The Sheriff his own and the two deputies sharing the other. They drove back to the station, careful to avoid running over anyone as they passed by the field of prefab tents and shelters that housed a pittance of the population that now called Somewhere home.

But he did all he could, Miles thought as they pulled up to the station. Can't make gold from nothing his bubbe would always tell him. Doesn't mean it didn't suck though.

Miles, Marc, and Davey entered the station to find a fellow with blond hair. Miles walked over towards the man.

"Can I help you sir?"

The man turned around. He was dressed in threadbare clothes that had seen better days, his pants were worn and stained from years worth of working hard labor further evidenced by his worn and sunbaked skin. When he spoke it was with an accent that sounded like it was from the Heartland, maybe Kansas or Nebraska.

"Evenin', Sir. I'm not entirely sure to be honest."

"Well what seems to be the problem?" Miles asked as he took a seat at one of the desks and gestured to the man to do the same.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing, sir. I'm not even entirely sure I should even be botherin' you." The man said as he chuckled nervously.

"Nonsense. Whatever it is we'll try to help however we can." Miles stated.

"Alright, well, the thing is. My family owns a farm out west. But it ain't been doin' too good these many years. Papa always tried to make it work, but he died some tens years now. So now it's me, my Mama, and my brothers and sisters keepin' the place together."

He paused as he tried to hold back tears. He waved away the tissue offered by Miles and took a breath before continuing.

"But some of us didn't much care for bein' dirt farmers. So some of us left to make our fortunes elsewhere. But that didn't mean we just left Mama to herself, no. Those of us that left sent back money to keep the place. And it was workin' for a time."

"But?"

"But you know how things go. Some got tired of throwin' their money at a "money pit" they called it. Tried to get Mama to move, sell the place, maybe bunk with them. My older sister took a well payin' job with some rich feller out this ways some years ago and was sendin' enough back to keep the farm."

"But we ain't heard from her in some weeks now. Not on no phone or letter."

"Our phone situation out here has been... spotty, of late."

"But not even a letter? I'm sure it's nothin', but it doesn't hurt to make sure, you know?"

Miles nodded. That was all he needed was a missing persons right now. Yet another problem to throw onto the pile. He pulled a pen and some paper out.

"Who is she?"

"Carol Devens."

"Who did she work for last you knew?"

"Uhm, Dion, Dion Duval."

-----

Hedge Maze, Duval Estate

The Bird Tribe stood ready. The assembled goblins watched their chief stand before them as he preached a sermon about He Who Slept Beneath The Hedge! How their sacred idol The Bird was sacred to Him and how the other two tribes that dwelt within His sacred leafy kingdom were heretics that needed to be sacrificed in ritual combat before He would rise from His earthly slumber! Behind him sat their sacred spawning pool that bolstered their numbers by the hour!

Their chief's voice grew as war-drums beat and the rattle of weapons sounded out in the thick, dark, section of the now jungle like hedge maze. If the goblins strained their ears they could hear their rivals doing the same in their own sections. The Bird Tribe's eternal rivals. The Fish and Horse Tribes have been doing sacred combat against one another since they claimed the green halls as their home.

But that would end soon, the tribes all thought daily if not hourly as they readied to once more do combat.

The goblins, a more verdant color than their brothers at the manor or even the ferals out in the wilds, had a almost leafy appearance to them as they grabbed their ritual weapons of spears gifted to them by He Who Slept Beneath The Hedge. The wood had a living quality like flesh that seemed to grip their wielders just as much as they gripped the spears, and a sharpness that only The Sacred Trimmers could rival.

The ceremony concluded with a loud cheer and war cry as the assembled Bird Tribe screamed and yelled before rushing off into the hedge to do battle with their enemies!

Drums and chants sounded out through the air the whole time even as the goblins rushed through the leafy halls of their contested home. Some rushed headlong towards their enemies with ardent fervor while others slunk within the shadows of the hedge in an effort to be silent and take their hated enemies by surprise.

The goblins that hadn't rushed ahead could already hear combat as they neared the center of the maze. Sounds of fighting could be heard off to the sides as others split up and branched off in the winding side halls that they knew would encounter the enemy.

Then they saw it. The center! What glorious death for He Who Slept Beneath The Hedge, they all thought as they rushed into the fray!

Calls, cheers, roars, and screams mixed in with battle sermons as the goblins impaled and clawed at one another beneath the darkness of their home. The center of the maze had since grown over and had been without direct light for some time now. It formed a dome like roof over the fighting as the goblins slaughtered one another, even as a beating still rang out through the fighting, louder in the center than anywhere else. Some true heretics that would form from the ponds from time to time would say it's just the war drums, but the rest all knew the truth. It was He Who Slept Beneath The Hedge as He watched His favored children do ritual combat in His name! The beating was His heart under the hedge!

Spears sunk into semi-wooden like flesh while thorn like claws slashed and shed thick sap like blood that was sucked greedily into the ground that was always wet. War banners flew as the tribes continued to fight. The Horse and Fish Tribes flying their heathen banners while the Bird Tribe flew their glorious, and faithful, banner that held a rough shape of a crow.

As the fighting continued, more joined the fray. Either those fresh born, or those same heretics that would seek to shape His Glorious Visage into something nonsensical like a cone or even a ball like The Heretic from long ago!

But not today, those of the Bird Tribe thought as they continued to spill blood in His name! One by one their enemies fell beneath them! Before long, all that stood was those of the Bird Tribe. They took but only a moment to congratulate one another. Before turning their weapons on each other. There could only be one to hold the Sacred Trimmers.

So the Bird Tribe fought yet more and slaughtered their brethren in His name. The soil beating faster and faster as blood was shed and bark like flesh was torn asunder. Until their was but one that remained of the sacred combatants.

The lone goblin smiled a blissful smile as he wandered towards the opening that would lead him to the current holder of the Sacred Trimmers, and towards his destiny.

He turned the last corner and beheld the current holder. A member of the Fish Tribe that had beaten them during their last glorious bout, and he had almost completed the false idol! With a fervent rage the Bird Tribe goblin charged the holder of the Sacred Trimmers!

The current holder tried to fend off the challenger, but to no avail, just goes to show who is His chosen, the Bird Tribe goblin thought as he drove his spear into the chest of the Fish Tribe goblin. The dead corpse fell unceremoniously, but the Sacred Trimmers were held like the sacred relics they were. The Bird Tribe goblin went about sculpting the false idol into the true image of the bird even as the body of the former Fish Tribe goblin was dragged away to be buried. His corpse feeding He Who Slept Beneath The Hedge like so many have already.

As the body was buried with much ritual and grandeur befitting one who held the Sacred Trimmers. The hedge grew just a few centimeters taller, and it groaned with satisfaction.