Mulch- Tumbling Goblin

  The boot slid off, revealing a not-quite-so-designer sock, complete with toe holes and darned patches.

  “Little toe,” said Mulch, eyes closed with pain.

  “Little toe what?”

  “Squeeze the joint. Hard.”

  Squeeze the joint. Must be a reflexology thing. Every part of the body corresponds to an area of the foot. The body’s keyboard so to speak. Practiced in the Orient for centuries.

  “Very well. If you insist.”

  Artemis placed his finger and thumb around Mulch’s hairy toe. It could have been his imagination, but it seemed that the hairs parted to allow him access.

  “Squeeze,” gasped the dwarf. “Why aren’t you squeezing?”
...
  “Something he ate,” said Artemis, and squeezed the joint.

  The resulting explosion knocked the goblin off his feet, sending him tumbling down the corridor. There was something you didn’t see every day.

  Mulch hopped to his feet.

  “Thanks, kid. I thought I was a goner, there. Must’ve been something hard. Granite maybe, or diamond.”

  Artemis nodded. Not ready for words.

-The Arctic Incident, Chapter 13