My planet is infested with Goblins

Several days after the meeting with Chief Varok, Grik returned to the beach and found half a dozen unfamiliar goblin craftsmen already crawling around his damaged ship. One was examining the broken mast support, another had removed a cracked plank from the hull, and two others were arguing loudly over the resin Grik’s crew had used during the emergency repairs. Kobb stood nearby with his arms crossed, looking deeply offended.

"They have been examining and touching everything."

Grik looked at him.

"That is what craftsmen usually does."

"They removed the side of the ship."

"It was already destroyed anyway."

Kobb pointed toward one of the isolated goblins, who was tapping the exposed internal ribs with a stone hammer.

"He looked disappointed when he saw me doing repair."

"That means he had some understanding in building boats."

Kobb grumbled something under his breath while Grik climbed onto the vessel.

Chief Varok had kept his promise. The isolated goblins would provide timber, fibers, food, and craftsmen to help make the ship capable of crossing the ocean again. They had no vessels large enough to travel so far from land, but generations of river and coastal construction had given them methods Grik had never encountered.

The craftsmen understood almost none of Grik’s words, while Grik understood only a small portion of theirs. For the first few days, repairing the ship involved pointing, demonstrating, drawing crude shapes in the sand, and occasionally shouting the same word until someone guessed the intended meaning.

Practical work made learning easier.

Grik pointed toward a replacement board.

"Plank."

One of the local craftsmen repeated it before pointing toward the same object and giving his own word.

Grik repeated the unfamiliar sound badly enough that the other goblin laughed.

Kobb immediately joined in.

"Say it again. You made it sound like dead fish."

Grik handed him the heavy plank.

"You can laugh while carrying this."

Within a week, both groups had developed a rough collection of shared words for timber, rope, water, mast, sail, cut, strong, weak, broken, and repair. It was far from a common language, but it was enough to work without arguing through gestures every few minutes.

The local materials proved just as valuable as the craftsmen themselves. One species of tree growing farther inland produced pale wood that was lighter than the hardwood Grik normally used. He initially distrusted it until a local carpenter demonstrated its strength by placing a long beam between two rocks and standing on the center.

The wood bent but did not break.

Grik immediately ordered several pieces prepared for the new mast supports.

Another plant produced long fibers that could be twisted into rope. The rope was thinner than the heavy lines Grik had brought from home, yet several strands braided together proved surprisingly resistant to stretching.

Kobb tested a length between his hands.

"We crossed an ocean to discover that someone else makes better rope."

Grik examined the weave.

"If that rope keeps the mast standing during the next storm, the journey was already worth it."

The hull demanded the most work.

The storm had damaged more than Grik first realized. Several planks were split internally despite appearing intact from outside, and two of the reinforced ribs had developed cracks near their joints. Emergency resin had kept seawater out long enough to reach land, but it was never intended to survive another crossing.

Grik refused to simply restore the ship to its original condition.

He had spent years designing the vessel before sailing west, but the storm had exposed weaknesses no coastal test could have revealed. The old mast supports were too concentrated around a narrow portion of the hull. Cargo restraints had failed when the ship rolled. Water had remained trapped on the deck longer than necessary because the drainage gaps were too small.

Each weakness became a new modification.

The craftsmen installed additional braces around the mast base and connected them to several internal ribs instead of only two. Larger drainage channels were cut along the deck edges. Storage containers received individual bindings connected to fixed wooden loops so that one snapped rope would no longer release an entire row of supplies.

Kobb watched Grik mark another change onto one of his wooden record boards.

"You are rebuilding half the ship."

Grik looked toward the damaged hull.

"It barely survived."

"That still counts as surviving."

"No. Surviving once means we were lucky enough to learn what almost killed us."

He tapped the record board.

"If we rebuild it exactly the same way, then the storm taught us nothing."

Kobb stopped arguing after that.

The weeks spent repairing the vessel became something neither group had expected. Grik’s expedition and the isolated goblins gradually stopped behaving like strangers.

Rudd spent several mornings studying the local fish traps they had discovered beside the river. In return, he showed the local fishermen how to construct larger coastal nets that could be dragged between two boats. The two hunters compared spearheads and bow designs with local warriors, sometimes arguing over which weapon was superior despite lacking enough shared language to properly insult one another.

Seka became particularly interested in the local healers.

The isolated continent possessed plants she had never seen before, including a bitter leaf that locals crushed into wounds and a sticky sap used to cover burns. Seka initially doubted both until she watched them treat an injured woodcutter.

She later returned carrying several bundles.

Kobb looked at them suspiciously.

"What are those?"

"Medicine."

"They smell poisonous."

Seka glanced at him.

"So do you, but nobody has thrown you away yet."

Even Noah found the exchanges significant.

For generations, the separated goblin populations had developed independently. The differences between them had once existed because of distance. Now, after only a few weeks of contact, those differences were already becoming sources of shared knowledge.

Grik had crossed the ocean searching for land.

Without intending to, he had created the beginning of exchange between civilizations.

Chief Varok visited the beach regularly. He spent long periods studying the ship and asking Grik questions using the mixture of gestures and shared words they had developed.

The question he returned to most often concerned the lands across the eastern sea.

One afternoon, Varok pointed toward the horizon.

"Many goblin?"

Grik smiled.

"Many."

Varok held up both hands.

"This many?"

Grik shook his head.

"More."

Varok pointed toward the entire settlement behind them.

"This many?"

"More."

The chief narrowed his eyes.

Grik eventually crouched and drew the three connected continents in the sand. He marked dozens of settlements across them.

"There are more goblins than you can count."

Varok stared at the map for a long time.

The following morning, he returned with Miraak and several younger goblins.

Grik immediately noticed packed bundles on their backs.

Varok pointed toward the repaired ship, then toward the newcomers.

Kobb leaned closer to Grik.

"I think he is giving us passengers."

Varok spoke slowly, using every shared word he knew.

"Go. See. East. Return."

Grik understood.

The chief wanted witnesses.

Stories from unknown explorers could be dismissed. Goblins who crossed the ocean themselves, saw the connected continents, and returned would be much harder to ignore.

Miraak stepped forward and pointed toward himself.

"Go."

Varok immediately shook his head.

The elderly religious keeper argued.

The two began speaking so rapidly that Grik understood nothing, but the disagreement was obvious. Miraak repeatedly pointed toward the Great Light symbol carved into his staff and then toward the eastern horizon.

Varok repeatedly pointed toward Miraak’s age-bent back.

Kobb watched the exchange.

"I think the old one wants to come."

"And Varok thinks the ocean will kill him."

"He may be right."

Eventually, Miraak lost the argument.

Instead, a younger religious attendant named Tarek was chosen to travel with Grik. He carried several thin wooden panels bearing copies of the oldest carvings associated with the Great Light. Two craftsmen volunteered as well, along with three younger goblins who appeared far more excited by the journey than their families appreciated.

The final repairs took several more days.

When the vessel was finally lowered into the water again, Grik walked along its length in silence.

It was still his ship, but it was no longer entirely the ship he had built at home.

Some planks came from trees on the connected continent. Others came from the isolated land. The new mast used local timber. Part of the sail had been rewoven with unfamiliar fibers. The sealant combined Grik’s original resin mixture with a local formula that resisted seawater more effectively.

The vessel itself had become proof that the two goblin populations had met.

Kobb stood beside him.

"Nobody at home is going to believe this."

Grik looked toward the local passengers preparing their belongings.

"That is why we are bringing goblins instead of stories."

They loaded freshwater, dried fish, preserved roots, grain, repair materials, and additional rope. Grik also collected unfamiliar seeds, samples of local wood, stone tools, medicinal plants, and several crafted objects as evidence of the civilization they had found.

His record boards received special protection.

He stored the original voyage logs alongside new boards showing the isolated coastline, the settlement, unfamiliar tools, and the Great Light symbol. Grik no longer viewed those carvings merely as reminders for himself. If he died, the records needed to outlive him.

The settlement gathered along the beach on the morning of departure.

Chief Varok stood near the water with Miraak beside him. Families embraced the six goblins leaving with the expedition, while local craftsmen made final inspections of the hull.

Varok approached Grik.

"Return?"

Grik understood the question.

He nodded.

"Return."

He pointed toward the ship, then toward the settlement.

"If sea allows."

Varok seemed to understand enough.

Miraak approached Tarek and placed both hands on the younger goblin’s shoulders. He spoke quietly before touching the symbol of the Great Light on Tarek’s wooden panel.

Then he looked at Grik.

"Find truth."

Grik nodded.

"I will try."

The vessel pushed away from shore shortly afterward.

This time, Grik knew what waited beyond the horizon.

The voyage east remained dangerous, but uncertainty no longer controlled every decision. Grik possessed records from the first crossing. He knew roughly how many days they had traveled, which currents had pushed them south, when bird populations had increased, and how quickly food and freshwater had been consumed.

More importantly, he knew what failure looked like.

Every water container was inspected morning and evening. Cargo restraints were checked constantly. The sail was reduced whenever winds strengthened instead of waiting until conditions became dangerous.

The isolated passengers handled the open ocean poorly.

On the second day, one young goblin spent hours staring nervously at the waves before asking Kobb whether the constant rise and fall meant a giant creature was breathing beneath the sea.

Kobb answered without hesitation.

"Yes. Grik angered it during our first voyage."

The young goblin went pale.

Grik overheard them.

"Do not listen to him."

Kobb smiled.

"You cannot prove I am wrong."

Several days later, dark clouds formed to the south.

Grik recognized the warning immediately.

He ordered the sail reduced, cargo secured, and additional ropes attached around the mast supports. Instead of continuing directly east, they angled the vessel to meet the growing waves more safely.

The bad weather lasted through the night.

Waves struck the hull hard enough to frighten the isolated passengers, but the vessel held. Water rushed across the deck and escaped quickly through the new drainage gaps. The reinforced mast remained steady. Not a single storage container broke loose.

By morning, the storm had passed with only minor damage.

Kobb inspected the mast.

"It worked."

Grik looked toward the record boards stored below.

"It better be working, the first storm nearly killed us."

That realization stayed with him.

Knowledge had done what strength alone could not.

They had suffered, recorded the reasons, changed the design, and survived the same danger more easily the second time.

The journey continued.

Days later, familiar birds began appearing overhead.

Then Grik recognized pieces of driftwood floating beside the vessel.

One afternoon, a familiar seed landed among the ropes after being dropped by a bird.

Grik held it in his palm and smiled.

They were close.

The following morning, the lookout shouted from the mast.

"Land!"

Every goblin rushed toward the eastern side of the ship.

A dark line stretched across the horizon.

The isolated passengers stared as cliffs and forests slowly emerged. Tarek watched the coastline continue north and south far beyond what he could see.

He turned toward Grik.

"Big?"

Grik nodded.

"This is only one."

Tarek looked back toward the seemingly endless coast.

For the first time, he appeared to fully understand Grik’s stories.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed.

Fishing boats spotted them while they were still approaching the bay. Several immediately turned toward shore.

By the time the repaired vessel entered familiar water, goblins crowded the beach.

Grik recognized Chief Hark standing near the front.

The old chief stared at the ship as though looking at a ghost.

When Grik stepped onto the sand, the settlement erupted in cheers.

Then the unfamiliar passengers began climbing down behind him.

The cheering weakened.

Confusion spread through the crowd.

Chief Hark stared at the strange clothing, shell ornaments, unfamiliar tools, and painted markings of the isolated goblins.

His eyes returned to Grik.

Grik smiled.

"I found the other side."

Hark continued staring.

Grik gestured toward the six goblins standing behind him.

"And I found more."

The beach fell silent as descendants of peoples separated for centuries stood face-to-face for the first time, and Grik understood that crossing the ocean had only been the beginning.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!