The Scholar and The Goblins – A Mythical Tale of Greed and Lost Knowledge

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom nestled between emerald hills and ancient forests, there lived a young scholar. He was a man of great wealth and even greater pride, yet his heart belonged to neither gold nor grandeur. His truest treasure was his vast collection of books, each brimming with stories, histories, and wisdom gathered from every corner of the world.

His mansion was more of a library than a home—towering shelves stretched towards ceilings painted with constellations. The scholar read from dawn till dusk, seated upon silk cushions in his grand pavilion, with goblets of fresh fruit juice and bowls of almonds brought to him by his quiet, obedient servant boy.

Yet for all his riches and intellect, the scholar was known for one flaw—he refused to share his books with anyone. Friends, family, even respected peers were turned away, their hands empty and their minds hungering.

“Knowledge,” he’d proclaim, “is like a delicate flower. In the wrong hands, it withers.”

An Unexpected Disturbance

One serene spring afternoon, while poring over a manuscript of forgotten fables, the scholar was jolted by the sound of loud, coarse voices arguing in the nearby flower field. His brow furrowed in irritation. Few things vexed him more than disturbances during his sacred reading hours.

Clutching his precious book, he stormed towards the commotion, prepared to scold the culprits. But when he arrived, he stopped abruptly. The quarrel wasn’t between men—it was between two goblins!
Their skin was a muddy green, their eyes gleamed with mischief, and their tattered clothes hung from their crooked frames. Despite their ghastly appearance, they argued like petulant children.

“I’m smarter!” croaked the first.
“No, I am!” snapped the other.

The scholar scoffed at their foolish bickering.

“Smarter? Yet neither of you has learned a thing, I suspect!” he chided.

Indeed, the goblins admitted that they had never studied, never read, never learned.
“Books can teach you,” the scholar said proudly, waving the volume in his hand.

The goblins eyed the book curiously, their gazes filled with longing.

“Can we borrow your books? We wish to become wise like you!” they pleaded together.

But the scholar’s face twisted with disdain.

“Absolutely not! These are mine. My knowledge, my property!”

The goblins begged, even offering heaps of gold, but the scholar stood firm, his selfishness shielding his precious collection. At last, the goblins’ pleas turned to threats.

“If you won’t share wisdom willingly,” one snarled, “then we shall steal it—or destroy it!”

Unmoved, the scholar huffed and returned to his pavilion, carefully wrapping his books and hiding them inside the secure walls of his mansion. He thought the matter settled, convinced that goblins, being dumb and clumsy, posed no real threat.

The Goblins’ Revenge

But he was wrong.

That very night, the goblins crept back, their scaly hands clutching matchboxes and oils stolen from human markets. Though they claimed ignorance, their cunning was undeniable. They slinked past the gates, cloaked by shadow, their eyes burning with vengeance.

In the dead of night, they doused the scholar’s beloved library in oil, whispering curses and giggling with glee. Then, with a single spark, they set the mansion ablaze.

By the time the scholar awoke, the air was thick with smoke, and his eyes stung from the acrid haze. He rushed from room to room, screaming for help, but it was too late. Flames consumed everything—his books, his papers, his parchments. Every ounce of knowledge, gone in a raging inferno.

The goblins watched from the bushes, their faces twisted not in triumph, but in grim satisfaction.

“If we cannot have wisdom, then no one shall,” muttered one.

The Scholar’s Despair

The next morning, the scholar stood before the charred skeleton of his mansion, his eyes hollow and disbelieving. The loss was unbearable—a lifetime of learning reduced to ash and smoke.

Villagers gathered, offering condolences, but no words could console a man who had built his entire existence around paper and ink.
For the first time, the scholar understood the loneliness of hoarding knowledge. He had locked wisdom away, treating it as his possession rather than a gift to be shared. Had he lent his books, the stories, histories, and discoveries might have lived on in others’ minds.

Instead, all that remained was silence and soot.

A Lesson Learned Too Late

The goblins were never seen again, though legends say they still wander, searching for scraps of wisdom in the ruins of greed. As for the scholar, he rebuilt his home—not as a mansion, but as a school, open to all who wished to learn. But no matter how many books he collected again, he knew deep down that he could never reclaim all that was lost.

And so, the story of the scholar and the goblins became a cautionary tale told across the land—a reminder that wisdom is not meant to be hoarded, but shared.

Moral of the Story

True wisdom grows when shared. Greed and selfishness, even with knowledge, can lead to ruin and regret.