Only A Boy

A Wand Fit for Merlin

The ring didn't fit.

He had expected that but it was still disappointing that he couldn't slide it on. He had created it because he needed a seal for important documents, but it had become more than just a crest. It had become a piece of him, in a way.

"Does Forger know the significance of his new ring?"

He turned to Dirknot, who was closing the vault doors behind him. He swallowed and did his best to appear only casually interested.

"I'm not—" he tried to say, but the goblin spoke over him.

"It bears the crest of Emrys." Dirknot's eyes glinted excitement and intrigue within them. "The Prince of Enchanters."

Merlin could feel his gut churning, panicked nausea coming over him. "S—so I'm related to..." he trailed off pointedly. He hoped that he sounded more excited than anxious.

The goblin's grin only grew wider. "Our magic can identify the true maker. You are the one who forged this ring."

He gave a nervous laugh. "What? That's impossible! I'm eleven."

Dirknot nodded. "Indeed." The goblin cocked his head to the side, as though he were gazing at a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve. "Yet you bear his name, Forger."

Merlin was holding the ring so tightly in his palm that it had started digging into his flesh. He started scooting toward the door, his hands cold as his legs prepared to run back into the lobby. The goblin knew. He was ready to make a dash for it when a sensation of calm washed over him. He took a deep breath and turned around.

"Maybe this ring chooses its own Maker, instead?" he suggested, choosing his words delicately. All this talk was speculation; there was no way to prove that he was The Merlin. Acting panicked would only add to the creature's suspicions.

"Perhaps." The goblin didn't look convinced. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then he started walking toward the exit. "Emrys has the loyalty of all magic, Forger. Wizards tend to be ignorant of the earth beneath their feet, but we goblins live within her. We have felt her cries."

Merlin stopped dead, gaping at Dirknot in shock.

"Those who have hurt her also have the wrath of the goblins to face. Remember this Forger, for when the earth shivers once more we will swear allegiance to none but her." The goblin bowed and opened the door back to the lobby. "No goblin will reveal you, Forger, and none will speak of the ring you possess. But do well to hide it from the view of all others, for we are not the only ones who know its lineage."

Merlin was silent for a moment, and then he nodded and bowed in reply. "I shall," he murmured. The panic had fled, the churning in his stomach calmed. There was a strange comfort in the words of the goblin, the same comfort he'd had when the druids had approached him and sworn their loyalty. "Can I ask a question, though?"

Dirknot nodded.

"You say Maker, and yet call me Forger. Why?"

And the goblin grinned once more. "Because you create with the aid of dragon fire."

Merlin stared.

"Only a select few have ever done, for the task is wrought with danger and unpredictability. The language of the beasts vanished long ago, leaving only savage brutality in its midst. To tame the dragon's flame is to become a Forger, and it is believed to be a skill belonging solely to goblin kind." Dirknot led the way through the door.

"Know this Forger, for you feel her below your feet and walk where no wizard has tread before."