"Oh, thank the MOON," Harriet spat, taking such an abrupt left that Guffin did a full circle before managing to catch back up to her heels... only to see what it was she was exclaiming about.
"Finally, a paved road!" the cloaked elf was proclaiming, gratefully eyeing the narrow cobblestone pathway, no wider than single-file. "Wherever it goes, where there are paths there is civilization, and no more eclipsed road dust!"
"No, thank you!" Guffin protested. "Miss Harriet, have you ever seen such a narrow road? That must go directly to a big fat elf camp."
"Good!" she retorted. "It would be nice to speak my own language again for a night."
"Not that kind of elf," Guffin attempted to explain. "Baseboard elves. Tiny tinkers. Borrowers. Brownies, if you want to be crude."
They said the last part in little more than a whisper, wary of what might be listening. Whatever was listening, it wasn't Harriet.
"Whatever," she dismissed. "Just come on. We'll rest easy and clean up in whatever stream this place uses for water, and have a hot dinner for once."
And she swept away, down the narrow path. Guffin took a deep breath, squared their shoulders beneath the pack, and stepped behind her, at a respectful enough distance to leave no risk of treading on the billowing velvet cloak. Or perhaps to leave some plausible deniability of whether or not they were travelling together.
Harriet's heeled boots clicked ominously on the cobblestones, which were in truth nearer the size of gravel, but set nice and firmly like cobbles. Guffin's bare toes, more green than grey at the moment from the afternoon light through the trees, padded as silently as ever at their distance. The tall elf's eyes kept firmly forward, scanning levelly through the trees for any sign of an inn, a store, a house... anything. The hobgoblin's eyes bulged, flicking in two different directions at some speed, keeping a close eye on everything within reach... the tiny doors in the bases of the trees, all shuttered tight, the windows the same, all almost invisible, and that one branch up ahead bent at an angle that could mean no good thing...
"Miss Harriet!" Guffin called in warning.
With an eye roll, Harriet turned only her head, but did not stop. One, two, three steps later, there was a sharp crack and a whoosh, and her head was on the same level and direction as before, but quite upside-down, along with the rest of her body, dangling from a rather elaborate net that had sprung from the bent branch.
She let out a soft screech, which quickly increased in pitch and volume as the situation became clear. Doors and windows opened in every tree; tiny ones, no more than a hand-span high, and tiny people sized to fit came pouring out of them, brandishing sticks and forks and a few match-light torches. Guffin sighed, shrugging out of their pack and immediately reaching in to fish through the contents, as Harriet slowly lowered toward the ground, and a waiting crowd of the tiny tinkers, still screeching.
"We come in peace," Guffin said, at a somewhat lower volume than usual. "Seeking only safe passage. My apologies for my friend's pride; she is unfamiliar with these woods."
A phalanx of the forest elves broke off, surrounding the goblin in a circle, weapons still raised. Harriet's screeching cut off rather abruptly as a gag was forced into her open mouth, and the ropes of the net were tightened and fastened, holding her immobile. Guffin sighed again and shook their head, but gently set several items on the stone path; a tea set of a size where the cups were no bigger than a thumbnail, three paper umbrellas of the sort that go in fancy drinks, a dozen shiny new sewing pins, and a pinch of glassy beads no larger than winter seeds.
At the offerings, the weapons of the phalanx surrounding the goblin rose; tucked away or turned towards the sky. "Such finery," a tiny voice piped. "Plenty for a safe night and a day through our city. Our greatest thanks, and a warm invitation to dinner... it appears we will be having roasted Tall Man."
Guffin shook their head, slinging their pack back on and kneeling cautiously.
"No roasting, please," they bargained. "I'll share my dinner. And safe passage for both of us out of your land, instead of the night and the day."
A low murmur passed around the circle.
"Fine," the speaker said blankly. "No roasting. But the gag stays on until dinner is ready."
"Oh, good," Guffin grinned, before clapping a hand over their mouth as Harriet gave them a look that could have killed a more sensitive person on the spot.
"Tonight, we feast!"
The call went up from the circle, but was repeated across the whole crowd, down the road, and into those still standing in doorways and windows, watching. The goblin climbed back to their feet, gingerly, as elves whisked away the tiny treasures and cleared the crowd in a path to an undisturbed clearing in the underbrush.