I am the mother of my people. I am the chief of my clan. I fought Gloona and beat her until she yielded. I led our females to drive off the rouge, Mulak, when he killed Peltook. I faced him and drove him off. But Gloona was too proud until I beat her.
I am the mother. I wish there was no need for males, no need for a mate, but we need young to grow strong. We still raise Peltook’s last brood. Moogat, the witch, says I should eat them as many mothers do when they rise. This I will not do.
Our males are too young or I would choose from them and chase away the rest. I must choose between two bad paths. I must go to other clans and take a mate or I must find a band of ogres, bachelors who may or may not have gone mad with blood lust.
I am now mother. I mate, but I will keep no mate. Moogat warns that this is not the path of wisdom. Moogat talks and talks, but I see no wisdom in her words. Her council is empty. Moogat talks to Gloona too and I know some of the words.
Perhaps I will chase Moogat and Gloona out of the clan like we chase off the old males that like to kill the females and eat the young. Sometimes smart and swift is better than strong.
It is strange that only the mother breeds. Don’t we need more young? What if every mature female was a mother and a clan was like a gathering of clans?
This I will think on.
This little snippet gives an idea of one small Gobli clan. I doubt seriously that they will think of themselves in terms that Tolkien did. Perhaps I will come up with something better, but in truth these creatures are a reflection of nightmare in a mind touched by the All Mind. If that mind thought in Tolkiensian terms then it is possible that they would be known by Tolkien’s names. Perhaps I can construct a better foundation. Anyhow, this is a start.