"If you're done admiring them, we need to think about how you will hand them over." Fizzit insisted Ferret wrap them in the makeshift curtain. "You need to put on a show," he said. "If you want to be considered serious, you must act like it."

Fizzit also suggested waiting until the tribe gathered for dinner. "They'll be in the right frame of mind if they've just eaten."

"But what if it all goes wrong?" Ferret was still determining. "Shouldn't we just hand them over quietly and not make a fuss?"

"A fuss is exactly what you want. If the tribe sees the chief with magic weapons, they must know they came from you."

As the sun set, Ferret's hands trembled as they unwrapped and re-wrapped the axe and spear. He wasn't sure if he could go through with their plan, yet he accepted the necessary. The conflicting thoughts of fear and determination battled in Ferret's mind, making him second-guess his actions. But deep down, he knew waiting until after sunset was the best chance he had at success.

Part of Ferret wished he could take his magic books and leave the warren. To wander the lands honing his magical abilities. But he knew he lacked the courage to face the unknown.

After an endless wait, they judged the time was right. Ferret felt a surge of nervous excitement building within him. He clutched the bundle of enchanted weapons as he made their way to the center of the tribe's warren. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, and Ferret's stomach growled in anticipation.

As was their practice each evening, the tribe gathered around the crackling bonfire. Brackish, their chief, sat atop a makeshift throne fashioned from the skin of a mountain lion, his broad body lounging against the wooden chair. A roasted rabbit was served to Brackish on a stone platter. He tossed the bones to the lesser goblins, who fought for scraps. Surrounding him were a group of giant, sturdy goblins- the tribe's strongest warriors- who chuckled at his jokes and nodded at his every word. Among them stood Bug, who glared at Ferret's approach.

Ferret felt all eyes on him as he approached the chief. Lesser goblins looked up from their roots and scraps while the largest clutched at clubs and knives, perhaps wanting to prove their loyalty by beating this upstart.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself to act with confidence. Just fake it.

"Chief Brackish," Ferret called out, bowing before the imposing figure. "I come bearing tribute."

Brackish raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this development. "Gifts?" he repeated, taking a mug offered by a pretty goblin lass beside him.

Ferret opened the curtain and pulled out the wrapped weapons. "I have enchanted these weapons for you," he announced, "with magic!" Holding them up, one by one, to display them for the crowd.

The goblins were as familiar with magic as soap but appreciated the spectacle, letting out "oohs" and "Ahs".

"It's just a rusty axe and a sharp stick," Bug yelled. Many goblin warriors joined in with their jeers and taunts, leading Bug to glance around with a sycophantic grin, enjoying the validation. Ferret saw he was searching for another mean-spirited remark to hurl at him and hoped he didn't strain his limited imagination.

Bug opened his mouth, a jibe on his lips, but Brackish cut him off by throwing his mug at him. "Shut up!" Bug sank back, dripping with spirits and glaring at Ferret. He would remember this public humiliation.

The chief's dark, beady eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the small goblin before him. He took in the faint glimmer of runes on the makeshift tools clutched in the goblin's hands. Unlike his ignorant minions, the chief recognized dwarven runes.

"What did you find when you snuck out the other day?" The jeers had stopped at his outburst, and the goblins listened intently, judging by the wind's direction.

Ferret gulped. The chief had seen more than Ferret had hoped.

"I didn't find them." he called out, "By my hand, I made them for you."

The tribe gasped and whispered, but a wave of Brackish's hand silenced them.

An eager henchman goblin, hoping to impress his leader, stepped forward to collect the weapons.

Brackish's fist connected with the goblin's skull swiftly, sending him to the ground in a heap.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

If, somehow, these were magic, he couldn't risk another goblin laying their hands on them. They might start getting ideas above their station.

Ignoring his fallen minion, the chief rose from his throne, walking towards Ferret. The smaller goblin fought not to flinch, yet his ears drooped. He offered the enchanted axe with trembling hands.

Brackish swung it once, twice, three times with increasing strength and speed until his final blow split a nearby log in half. The tribe erupted into cheers and applause at the display of raw power.

Next, Ferret handed over the goblin spear and instructed Brackish to activate its accuracy runes. "Just throw it." With expert precision, Brackish hurled it towards a distant target with deadly accuracy, causing even more excitement among his people.

Fizzit beamed at Ferret from a hidden corner as goblins gathered around to inspect the weapons more closely.

Brackish waved them away from his new treasures. The large goblin put a thick arm around Ferret's neck, pulling him in for a hoarse whisper.

"Later tonight, I was planning on drowning you in a bucket of filth as an example to others." Ferret started to speak, but the chief hushed him. "But you've proved yourself." he put his face so close that Ferret smelled the rabbit he had for dinner. "You are going to do great things for me."

Brackish saying what he wanted to hear has elated Ferret. But a sense of foreboding filled him.

Brackish pushed Ferret away and held up his new spear. "Who's sick of rabbit?" he called out. The goblins shouted back, even those who hadn't had a rabbit, when he yelled, "Let's go hunting!"

He led the excited mass down a narrow passageway towards the surface.

Moments later, Ferret looked around at the empty chamber. Even Rat was gone. The fire was dying, so he added another log, looking up as sparks drifted to the soot-stained ceiling.

"You have a real knack for this," Fizzit said. "You should be on stage."

"I was worried the lesser runes would not be impressive enough for the chief, but they appeared to serve."

Ferret landed on the makeshift throne and looked to see if any dinner was left. "I suspect he would have acted pleased no matter what you gave him." He sniffed at the goblet before taking a swing.

"What?" Ferret raised an eyebrow. "You heard him. He needed magic, or he was going to drown me."

"He needed to impress the tribe to solidify his position." Fizzit sat on the throne, relaxing into it while holding the goblet bigger than he was. He would have held up whatever you gave him and declared it enchanted. You saw the crowd. They were all in."

"You didn't share that thought yesterday." Ferret accused.

"You needed to concentrate. Besides, someone would have noticed if you had tried to bluff through this."

Ferret shrugged. He wasn't upset, as getting the runes to work was a fantastic step. If he had more runes, even more incredible things would be possible. Of course, what he desired was more wizardry spells.

He was sitting by the fire when he heard excited voices approaching. Soon, goblins filled the cave, the largest amongst them dragging the carcass of an enormous deer. Rat hurried up to him and chattered that the entire tribe had seen Brackish strike down the deer from an impossible distance. "The spear," his words tumbling over his lips. "It made a cracking sound and glowed as it flew, hitting the buck right between the eyes." He pointed to his forehead as if Ferret needed to be reminded where it was.

Ferret nodded, pleased the spear had worked as intended.

They dumped the deer on the ground, and the slaughtering began. The goblins were notoriously work-shy, yet hacking butchery was a task all enjoyed. Guts soon spilled out to be collected for sausages, and steaming red blood was scooped into bowls.

"It'll be blood pudding for days." Someone shouted. Ferret wondered what had happened to all the blood from the boar he had mesmerized. The greedy guts probably kept it for themselves.

The chief waved his spear, recounting the story to the surrounding goblins. They all cheered at the retelling despite most of them having seen it for themselves. When his eyes met Ferret's, he raised the weapon in salute, to which Ferret bowed theatrically.

Soon, hunks of meat roasted over the fire, juices hissing as they struck the coals. Hungry goblins grabbed offcuts and swallowed them raw, the blood staining their lips red.

At the chief's wave, Ferret was pulled onto the dais and given a seat next to the throne. It was still on the floor, but Ferret appreciated the honor, waving to the goblins below him. He ignored the glares of those he had displaced in the chief's favor. What could they do to him now?

Brackish lounged on his throne, and the stag's prized liver was offered to him. Ferret hoped they might share it with him, but he had to watch as the chief ate it all himself, his lips smacking with enjoyment.

They pressed cups of something alcoholic into Ferret's hand, and he took a swing, enjoying the burn of the fiery liquid. He resolved not to drink too much and remembered his rash promise last time. Still, that worked out fine, and he drank some more. Someone refilled his cup, and soon, he leaned against the throne for support while the chief asked a goblin lass if she wanted to see his royal scepter.

"Can you make more?"

The question distracted Ferret from the seduction. "What?" he said around a thick tongue. What happened to his drink?

"The magic weapons." The voice continued. "Can you make more?"

Ferret blinked, trying to make out the blurring figure. When he could focus, he saw it was a warrior goblin. His thick, corded arms and the plentiful scars across his body were a souvenir of many fights.

"Sure," Ferret said. "It's easy." He noticed Fizzit hissing at him from under the throne, but he ignored him. "I can make as many as you want. Weapons for everyone!" he declared, missing how the chief's head snapped around.

If every warrior wielded enchanted weapons, nothing could stop the tribe. And as Ferret surveyed his people, basking in their triumph, a sense of pride swelled within him. He would lead them to glory, forever changing their fate with this simple but brilliant notion. Soon, they would conquer the neighboring tribes, be the most powerful, and have the best food.

It was such a great idea. Ferret couldn't believe no one had thought of it before.