I crossed the path for the fifth night, did not meet any robbers or merchant caravans, and I did not seek to bypass the famous parking lots along the arc. The forest behind the road stretched for about ten to fifteen kilometers, and then gradually moved to the foothills, where the trees, though growing, quite liquid, giving way to more shrubs, now quite modestly looking out of the white linen. For a couple more days, I walked the hills until I leaned against the wall of the rocks. It appeared quite abruptly, reminiscent of the Black Sea coast, where I had the opportunity to rest several times, including the "savage", only if there are cliffs hanging over the shore from above almost always showered with lush vegetation, up to quite serious forests, then here with the trees on the slopes was quite bad.
Somewhere here should have been the entrance to the Teriamar mines. Unfortunately, thanks to the season, it was bad with landmarks - Alof did not come here in winter, and therefore I was forced to poking at random. And to rely on vague images from the memory of the robber and his incomprehensible story ... However, I had nothing better anyway.
For three days I crawled over the rocks, making sure that my boots fell apart, but I achieved the result. First of all, however, it was necessary to thank the inhabitants of the former dwarf's stronghold for it - such an amber, against the background of clean, fresh, winter air, it was physically unrealistic to miss. The smell of the caves was spreading not that colorful, but just epic! Apparently, the orcs and goblins living in Teriamara were not familiar with the concept of "washing" at all. Well, luck really ended, and the only entrance I found was through the drain of public sewerage...
Careful observation showed that the second option is unlikely. First of all, the entrance was crowned with a gate. Now, however, there is little left of them, but the carved arch, rather solid articles, hardly could lead to the drains of the public toilet. On the one hand, it certainly made me happy, but on the other hand... It made me shiver in advance.
After lying in the snow for several hours, I saw the first inhabitants of this place; low, palpable humanoids with repulsive features of the face and dark brown skin. The latter, however, could have been just mud, the tear they were wearing, hinted at it. A couple of dozen of these creatures fell out of the dark aisle and, scattered to the side, began to make some obscure moves. Of all their actions, I was able to determine only the collection of firewood, and some sluggish - there were few trees around, but the obvious meaninglessness of the class did not seem to make any sense, and the crowd continued to rush, shout and bicker.
The performance was performed by goblins, and according to all the signs and verbal descriptions of Alof, it was them and lasted for forty minutes, after which three boogers wrapped in the skins of the boogers and under the roar of the throat, kicked the whole gang back inside. But it didn't end there; it didn't even take twenty minutes before the goblins showed up again. This time there were fewer of them, only seven of them, and they behaved as quietly as possible. The essence of the actions, however, has not changed. Either they cleaned the area in front of the entrance, or, on the contrary, artistically littered it, paired with the surrounding slopes, but the view was extremely busy and thoughtful.
Nobody came to disperse them, but they were replaced twice. And I think I realized what they were doing - they were hunting. Mice. Unfortunately, in the early dawn of the night, the surveillance had to stop and hurry to find a day shelter...
The next night, I grabbed a goblin and conducted an active interrogation session. The small, loud-eyed creature was shaking, bubbling, beeping, and "common language" I had learned the last time and understood only from first to tenth, but that didn't prevent me from making contact. The process of learning the language by guttering my memory this time was ridiculously simple. Goblins language turned out to be a simple and mundane one, not Ellochka the ogre, of course, with her legendary vocabulary of 30 pieces, but something close between them was elusive. For example, verbal expression of complex feelings and thoughts was not provided at all; compassion, love, irony... I have not heard. But there were more than a hundred words in Goblins' dialects that denoted murder and hatred, and the term with which goblins denoted friendship could rather be interpreted as "temporary military alliance" or "service to the stronger".
To confess, for a moment it even became a little scary from the idea that we would have to live in such a "peace-loving" society. But, on the other hand, isn't that why I came here?