Nolod was the richest city on Other Place and a land of contradictions. The vast metropolis included opulent wealth and wretched poverty, high culture and crass entertainment, heartwarming compassion and unbelievable cruelty. Some scholars had diagnosed the city as bipolar. One example of this curious dichotomy was the trash heap at the edge of the city, which grew and shrank throughout the day.

Nolod’s million humans, elves, dwarfs and other races generated an appalling amount of garbage, which was unceremoniously dumped at the city’s edge. But when half the citizens lived in dire poverty, this was a resource to be exploited. Carts left garbage every hour, and those desperate enough to see value in it hauled off an equal amount. Thus the city’s dump received a mountain of trash every day yet never grew.

“Ooh, good pickings,” Biffle said as he neared the dump. The short goblin wore ragged clothes, and his green eyes opened wide at the inviting sight. Night was falling, but he could see in the light from Nolod’s neighboring prosperous district.

More goblins scurried up behind him. The group numbered fifty strong and included two orphaned human boys, not an unusual situation when goblins were so stupid they thought such orphans were goblins and adopted them.

Cylix the goblin smiled and added, “Perfect timing. Tonight’s trash is out and nobody got here before us.”

Biffle opened a stained leather bag and dug through the piles of refuse. “Load up quick. Competition will be here soon.”

Scores of filthy goblins dug through the trash, gorging on rags, bones and scrap wood before stuffing more refuse into their sacks for later. Smarter goblins (an oxymoron, to be sure) gave more edible bits to the human boys. They dug deeper through the heaping piles, stopping only when Biffle called out, “Is anyone missing an arm?”

Cylix checked both of his before answering. “Um, no.”

That answered was repeated by more goblins, prompting Biffle to climb out of the trash pile. “Then I’m stumped, because I’ve got an extra one over here. Come take a look.”

Goblins gathered around to see a wooden arm eight feet long and a foot thick buried in the trash. More digging produced a ridiculously large hand at one end of the arm and eventually turned up the rest of the body.

“It’s a timber golem,” Cylix said.

Biffle finished digging the golem out. “What’s that?”

“It’s dwarf magic, cut rate stuff. Dwarfs use them for heavy lifting like unloaded wagons and carrying wine barrels.”

Now that the golem was fully excavated, they had a better look at it. The golem stood twelve feet tall and must have weighed a ton, but it was a sad looking thing with nicks, scratches and cracks in the wood. Its body was a tree trunk stripped of bark, with arms and legs attached with large wood pegs. The golem had no face, only a silver amulet sparking on its chest.

“What’s the poor guy doing buried in garbage?” Biffle demanded. “I mean, yeah, he’s missing his left arm from the elbow down, and most of his toes, but that’s it.”

Cylix pointed at the amulet on the golem. “Look for another amulet like that. Owners use them to control their golems.”

Biffle dutifully dug through the trash and asked, “How come you know so much about golems?”

“I learned a lot about magic when I lived for a year in the rafters of a wizard’s tower. Then the guy kicked me out for eating his pants.”

“Proof that wizards have no manners.” Biffle smiled when he saw a faint light in the trash. More digging produced a sparking silver amulet identical to the one on the golem. “Here we go! How do we use it?”

Cylix took the amulet and said, “Simon says stand up.”

The golem sat up, causing a landslide of garbage. Goblins scattered as the golem steadied itself with its remaining arm and climbed to its feet. Seconds later the golem wobbled and fell face first into the trash. It struggled to its feet, only to fall once more.

“Simon says stop!” Cylix shouted. The golem fell silent.

Biffle hurried over to the fallen golem. “What’s the matter?”

“He can’t answer you,” Cylix explained. “Golems are mindless.”

A goblin smiled and offered, “He could go into politics.”

“Enough of that!” Biffle shouted. “Bad enough the guy is hurt, then you go and insult him.”

Biffle went over every inch of the golem. More scavengers came to the dump, including poor humans, harpies and a lone troll. It was only a matter of time until someone tried to force the goblins off their find. Biffle had to work fast.

“Those missing toes are keeping him from walking. That’s why he got left here. Some snooty dwarf must have figured if he can’t walk then he can’t work.” Outraged, Biffle turned to his goblins. “I won’t have it, throwing away people just because they’re hurt. Find him some toes!”

Further scavenging turned up scrap lumber and two broken shovels the goblins nailed to the golem’s feet. It took a lot of work, and they had to chew the scrap down to fit, but when they were done the timber golem had makeshift toes.

“Simon says stand up,” Cylix said. The golem staggered to its feet, and the goblins cheered when it remained upright.

“You did it, Joey!” Biffle said. Goblins gave him curious looks, and he said, “I found him, I’m naming him. We’re not done yet. Joey needs an arm. I know where we can steal iron chains and thick timbers to build it. You watch, we’ll make Joey as good as new.”

“Then what?” a goblin asked.

Biffle grinned from ear to ear. “We’ll talk more outside town.”

Cheering goblins left Nolod with the timber golem in the lead. Ten days later they returned to the city with their makeshift golem, an event Nolod would need months to recover from.