Word: Barmecidal

Barmecidal

[ bahr-muh-sahyd-l ]

adjective

giving only the illusion of plenty; illusory: a Barmecidal banquet.

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               Brad groaned and nursed his aching head.  He probed his body and found that, other than a massive headache, his left ankle was also in bad shape.  He had not thought the fall would be so bad when he jumped into it.  It had seemed like only a few feet.  Not enough to cause any harm.  But, his aching head and foot were a constant reminder of how wrong he had been.

               “Greetings, human.” The voice filled the area and was raspy and thin. 

               Brad looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but it was far too dark to see anything.

               “Who’s there?” Brad called.

               “I am the one who lives in this cavern.  Oh, don’t worry, I don’t mind the sudden intrusion.  I wasn’t doing anything important anyway.  Lucky for you, I had finished my dinner already.”

               Lights slowly filled the room, and it was indeed a room.  Small wooden pieces of furniture were set up, and doors lined the stone walls.  And in the center of the room was a creature that Brad could only think of as a goblin.

               It was short, with lumpy, dirty green skin, sharp ears and big eyes.  It also had some nasty looking teeth in its overly large mouth.  While Brad was easily twice its size, he still did not want to mess with something with teeth like that, especially with a bad ankle.  At least it was not being overtly hostile.  It was, thankfully, clothed in a heavy cloth, stitched together in a way that made it one step nicer than rags.  Brad did not want to know what the many stains were from.

               “Uh, okay, good.” Brad said.  “So, do you think you can show me the way out?  I mean, if you don’t mind or anything.”

               “Oh, no, not at all.”  The creature said with a disturbing grin.  “Oh, but it would be a shame for you to visit just to leave, wouldn’t it?  Why not play a game first?”

               “What, uh, what kind of game?”

               “A game where you stand to gain quite a bit.” The creature pulled a single gold coin from somewhere under its outfit and tossed it towards Brad.  It rang on the stone with a satisfying clink.  Brad was immediately interested.

               “So, what do I do?”

               The creature snapped its fingers and four of the doors grew to fit Brad. 

               “I will ask you three questions.”  The goblin said.  “Answer them however you like, I won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.  Once I’m over, I’ll let you in one of these doors, depending on how many you got right.  Each one has a different amount of gold in it, and you can take all of what you see behind them.”

               Brad smiled wide.  Even a single gold coin could be worth a decent amount.  He could make a real fortune if he answered well.

               “Your first question:  How does one control the wind?”

               Brad smirked.  “That’s easy.  Fans.  Get a bunch of fans and you can move the air any direction you want.”

               The goblin let out a low, throaty chuckle.  “Very well.  Your second question:  What words do trees speak?”

               “Trees don’t talk.  They’re plants.”

               “I see, I see.  Your final question: What is the lion’s favorite pray to hunt?”

               “Hm…Gazelle, I think.”

               The goblin nodded.  “Very well.  Come with me, I will show you to your reward.”

               The goblin went to one of the doors and opened it.  Even before a very confident Brad could enter the room, he could see the piles of glittering coins on the other side.  He dashed into the room and saw piles of gold bigger than he was.  More of the yellow metal than any man could ever hope to carry.

               “This is all for me?” He asked.

               “Oh yes, it is your prize for your answers.”

               Brad obviously had gotten all the questions right to get such wealth.  Now he just had to figure out how he was going to carry it all.  He reached for a handful of gold.  His fingers touched nothing but air.  No matter what he did, the gold remained in the pile, untouchable.  The goblin’s laughter filled the room.

               “You fool!  You answered none of my questions right.  Fans, really?  You are truly an idiot.  And for that, you get nothing but illusions.  Fake money for fake wit.  Appropriate, don’t you think.  Oh, and one more thing.  There is no way out of my home.  Enjoy your shiny pile of nothing while you rot away in my larder.”

               As the door shut, the goblin’s laughter echoed in the room lit by wealth that none could ever have.    

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Good rule of thumb: Never trust a fairy with anything.  And yes, goblins are a type of fairy, at least in older folklore.  These days they're something else entirely.