On one particularly snowy day, Grandma Gowdie was toiling away at her small pewter cauldron. Inside, a gross ginger-smelling black mush refused to bend to her baking expertise. No matter how much she sifted or crushed the ingredients, she couldn't remove the last few impurities.
It was in the midst of pondering her problem when Handful and Graceless ran up to her side, "Grandma, what are we going to do? We've just heard our mama and papa are coming over with the family to approve of you." Eager for a distraction, Grandma Gowdie pushed her annoying recipe to the side and smiled, "Well then, we must host them well. Let us cook a grand feast for your family." Grandma Gowdie moved over to her pantry and pulled out a large cauldron. "How many of your green brothers and sisters will be coming?"
"two thousand eight hundred ninety-three."
Grandma Gowdie stopped momentarily, then pushed the heavy cauldron back into the pantry. "Oh, we'll need the big one for this."
Two days later, as the !Clox clan arrived; Grandma Gowdie stood atop her stool, wielding a staff-like ladle and working upon her grandest cauldron. It bubbled with a great many delicacies. There were the usual staples of carrots, turnips, onions, rabbits, and boars, but there were also other special treats, such as peafowl's legs and sea turtle eggs, bamboo shoots, and cassava roots. Grandma Gowdie left no stops for her guests; she wanted them to be impressed.
However, Grandma Gowdie was much dismayed. She ran out of mushrooms for her stew; fortunately, Grandma Gowdie was an old lady who knew what to do. She told Handful and Graceless that they needed to go to the dwarves in the mountains to get her mushrooms. The dwarves tended the finest mushrooms to be had in all the land, truly the world's greatest treat, so pure and delicious they were as white as snow. The goblin brother and sister thought the task would be quite fun and a good chance to show their family the land. So the goblin pair went straight to the mountains, taking all two thousand eight hundred ninety-three of their siblings, leaving Grandma Gowdie alone with a stern and tight-lipped Papa and Mama goblin.
Out in the forest, the goblins marched to the dwarves high in the mountains. Now let me tell you, dear readers, a goblin horde on the move is a sight to behold. They scampered over rocks and trees, chortling and cavorting with cackling giggles of glee. Beasts ran for their borrows, and the spooks ran for their nooks. There was nothing in the region that would stand before this legion. That is, of course, except for the dwarves. Tough as iron and brave as rams, the seven dwarves that guarded the keep donned their helms and hefted their axes. They lined the battlements and shouted to the goblin throng, "We won't let you steal from us!"
Handful denied the dwarves, "We don't want to steal. We seek a special treat for our stew: the tasty morsel you hold deep in your mountain that is as white as snow."
The dwarves all gasped in horror. They shouted at the goblin mass, "We will never give you our beauty that is as white as snow!" With their mighty strength, they hefted up burning barrels of oil and volleyed them over the wall. The barrels let out roars of flames as they hit the ground, consuming twenty-seven goblins in the eruptions.
As the score plus half-dozen plus one goblins went up in smoke, the remaining two thousand eight hundred sixty-eight rushed to the castle. They scampered up the walls, squeezed through arrow slits, and even clambered through the garderobes. There's no holding back a goblin horde when they want something.
The seven dwarves swung their weapons but could not withstand the goblin onslaught. They were pushed back from the battlements and off the ramparts. They hacked their way through the bailey to the keep's gatehouse. Behind them, they left a path strewn with the bodies of forty-eight goblins.
Once at the gatehouse, they beat back the remaining two thousand eight hundred twenty goblins, but there were too many to close the doors. One of the dwarves defended the doorway while his six fellows closed the gate behind him. Before they barred the way, he laughed out, "Don't be jealous of me, my brothers, but I am the first to journey to our precious beauty!" With goblins clenched and biting into his arms and legs, hanging from his hair and beard, that stoic and noble dwarf slew eighty-three goblins on his own before they brought him down.
Inside the keep, the six dwarfs found no safety as the goblin army poured through the unguarded windows and halls. In the grand chamber, the dwarves released a trap of a giant iron ball that swung down and smashed into the storming goblins. With a mussy crunch, the quinquagintaseptuplets were blasted out the east window. When the great ball swung back, the septuagintaquintuplets were blasted out the west window.
With the way cleared for them, the six dwarves ran to the chamber's far end. One stayed at the exit while the five others ran on. The remaining dwarf lifted his mighty axe, hailing to his comrades, "Behold my brothers, the number of goblin trophies I bring to our dearest white beauty!" With his final word, he brought his axe down on the chain holding the grandest chandelier in all the kingdoms. With a mighty crash, the magnificent candelabrum came down and crushed one hundred ninety-five goblins, as well as the dwarf.
In staunch defence, the five remaining dwarves battled back against the goblins as they were pushed down a long hall, but the goblins would not be stopped. They swarmed the walls and even the ceilings to advance on the dwarves. In the middle of the hall, a dwarf planted himself and growled at the goblin invaders to dare take him down. Eager to oblige his doom, the goblins pounced on him in great numbers while his four companions escaped further still into the fortress, where a conspicuous lever jutted out of the wall. The lone dwarf beneath the mass of goblins yelled out a hearty chuckle, "Now at last! It is my turn to see our beautiful white charge!" While his words echoed in the hall, his dwarf brothers pulled the lever. A great pit opened beneath the pile of goblins. The brave warrior dwarf fell into a black abyss, taking two hundred seventy-two goblins with him.
The four dwarves retreated to their mountainous cavern beneath the keep with two thousand one hundred thirty-eight gnashing and screeching goblins in pursuit. At this point, things were most dire. There were no other ways out of their mines, and below, the tunnels led to their precious white treasure.
The tunnel came to a split. One of the dwarves turned and taunted the goblins, "Monsters, Monsters in our halls. You are the stupidest of them all!". Now, there are a great many things you can call a goblin. Those grotesque, twisted creatures have heard it all, and quite frankly, they'll admit most of it was deserved. But the one thing you don't call a goblin under any circumstances is stupid.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The heckling dwarf darted down the side tunnel, laughing at the enraged goblins as they tore after him. He bolted into their powder room and lifted his hammer high, calling down the mineshaft, "I may not be first to meet our white again, but I will be the brightest!" And with his final cheer, he brought his hammer down on a cask of black powder. The whole mountain shook with the terrible fury of the dwarves' exploding storeroom. With a flash, the dwarf was obliterated along with three hundred sixty-three goblins.
The remaining three dwarves continued down to the deepest part of their mine, pursued by one thousand seven hundred seventy-five goblins. At this great depth was a dam to collect the diverted water that constantly dripped and seeped into their quarry. As two of the dwarves made their way to the exiting stairs upwards on the far side, the third dwarf stayed at the dam's base. And when the goblin mob entered the bottom depths, the dwarf smashed his mighty club against the dam's supporting brace.
The goblins froze. The air froze. Time froze. The only thing that dared stir in the great watery chasm was a creek of wood, then a groan of timber. Then there was a great laugh from the dwarf, "Out of all the dwarfs to see the fairest of them all today, I will be the only one to have a bath!"
Then there was a roar. And oh dear reader, I cannot create that sound, not with a thousand trumpets blaring to a thousand drums. The roar was as great as the blast of water that gushed over the cavern, drowning dwarf and goblins alike. Now, you would think this would be the end of the story and that, at last, the goblin invasion was stopped. But goblins are far too crafty and tenacious for that. Many goblins scrambled up to the stalactites, and believe it or not, many swam through the torrent of water. The dwarf made a great sacrifice, but alas, he only managed to give four hundred sixty-eight goblins a bathing in mortality.
Now, the two remaining dwarves climbed up the mine shafts with one thousand three hundred-seven goblins giving chase. Having run to the depths of their burrow and back, the last two dwarves had made a clever maneuver on the goblins; the exit of their cave was above them, and the last of the goblins were below them. When their tunnel came to the split with their escape, they did not turn towards the outside and flee. Instead, they turned towards their most hallowed and revered excavation: the sacred crypt of their most cherished ward, the fairest princess in all the land, the beautiful Snow White.
Laid in a crystal coffin, the angelic princess was surrounded by glowing mushrooms and shiny gems that sparkled dappled light about her. The two dwarves removed their helms and lowered their heads to the cold, supine maiden. Then they turned, gripped their weapons firmly and vowed that they would rather die horribly than see their beautiful princess defiled.
When the goblins rushed into the sanctified tomb, the two remaining dwarves sang a melancholy song as they hefted their armaments into the bodies of the goblins:
"High yon hoe, did Seven stand, to guard beauty's last sleep
High yon hoe, did Six blow out the candles that shone, on beauty's last song
High yon hoe, did Five open the abyss, to seal in beauty's last kiss
High yon hoe, did Four light the way, of beauty's last day
High yon hoe, did Three bathe the stones that plied beauty's last grace
High yon hoe, did Two vow the final fight, to hold beauty's last sight
…
High yon hoe, did One sing the last rite, to entomb the beautiful princess, our beloved Snow White."
One dwarf and five hundred eighty-seven goblins were slain in the battle. The final dwarf stared back at the remaining seven hundred twenty goblins, laughing, "It is over for you ruinous creatures. Even if it may take my life, it is mathematically impossible for you to defeat me. You'll never lay a hand on this woman."
Handful stopped his goblin family from attacking. "Now wait a second. Are you fighting for the child in the coffin?"
The dwarf, breathing heavily and teetering on collapse, replied, "Yes, of course. Is she not so beautiful to be worth dying for?"
Handful shrugged, "Not really, I've seen better. You dwarves should travel more often."
"Then why have you come to eat our princess Snow White?"
"That girl is Snow White? We thought the mushrooms were Snow White. Those tasty, succulent morsels that everyone declares are white as snow."
"The mushrooms? Aye, they are good but not worth fighting for. We have lots of them."
"Can we have some for our stew?"
"Of course. Why didn't you ask?"
Graceless pulled herself out from under a pile of goblin bodies, sniffling as her seminal plasma hypersensitivity kicked in. She scowled at the dwarf, "We did ask!"
The last dwarf put down his weapon while the remaining seven hundred twenty goblins concealed their teeth. Handful and Graceless picked a sack full of mushrooms and made their way out of the bloody cavern, battered keep, and trampled forest to Grandma Gowdie's hut.
After two days of awkwardly trying to converse with the gruff and reticent Papa and Mama Goblin, Grandma Gowdie was delighted with the arrival of Handful and Graceless and the glorious white mushrooms. She quickly finished cooking her stew, and the goblins thought it was their best feast, worth every bit of effort.
Papa and Mama Goblin thanked Grandma Gowdie for her hospitality. They said she made an excellent master and teacher for their two children and that they would be honoured if their children served her. In their own words, "You ok." And they turned to leave with progeny.
Grandma Gowdie called out after them, "Are you not upset about losing your children?"
Papa Goblin only scoffed back, "Naw. Mama expecting." And with that, the goblins left Grandma Gowdie in peace.
It was late evening when the trio finally cleaned up the hut from the day's visit when a soft knock wrapped on the door. Grandma Gowdie opened it to find a meek and slightly shivering Snow White. "Can you help me? I just woke up from a long nap, and my stepmother wants to poison me; A huntsman wants to cut out my heart, and a dwarf won't stop clinging to me and crying over his dead brothers. My home is wrecked and filled with goblin corpses, and there is this creepy prince I've never met before who says he loves me and wants to marry me."
Surprised at the girl's plight, Grandma Gowdie inquired, "Why would you come to me?"
"Your goblins are the only ones that never wanted something from me."
"Are you not upset they killed your caretakers?"
Snow White fixed Grandma Gowdie with a hard stare. "They made my bed into a glass box so they could watch me while I slept and planted their seeds around me to grow their magic mushrooms. I'll take the goblins, thank you."
There was a long, cold pause between the two as Grandma Gowdie pursed and bit her lips while considering the young maiden's words with concern. She finally put her arm around Snow White and reassured her with a smile, "Perhaps then my goblins had finally done some good for once. Come inside, deary, we were just going to polish off some desert."