Help him

You don't know what it is. Maybe you pity the fact that he was enslaved by goblins to spend his life digging in front of their whips and beady eyes. Maybe he reminds you of someone you knew, but regardless you will help him.

"Here I have some food, we can lay camp somewhere below this hill a little ways out of sight," you tell him. The man smiles once more straight at you. "Could you help me walk, I am a bit tired," he asks. You walk over to him and he leans onto your shoulder as you lead him to the end of the hill. He smells of piss and sweat and you try not to look noticeably discomforted, but Number says, "They don't got many baths at the mines."

As you lay by the fire, and Number eats ravenously from the food you've shared with him he starts to recall many stories that he and the other goblin slaves told one another. He talks of giants and ancient wars and you almost blush as he recalls all the women the men left behind. He goes a bit far too in-detail for you, but you imagine being in such bad company for a long time he doesn't have prudence. You fail to notice that Number looks over at your pouch of silver consistently while you are distracted. Finally, he passes out by the fire as he lays his head on the ground.

You sit across from him and decide to do so as well. You rest your head on some of the clothes you neatly packed. The fire dies out and the only light is that of the stars and fireflies. You are about to dose off.