The Wounded Goblin

Ouch, ouch, ouch! My poor little ankle! I've sprained it and I can't move. If you want me to get back to the parade grounds you'll have to carry me. There's no way I can walk!

Make sure that you're careful! I won the Goblin Prize for Best Music, you know. I'm a very important person! I can't imagine how furious my superiors would be if you accidentally injured one of my hands on the trip back!

What kind of a drill routine will it be without music?! We'll be a laughing stock!

This invalid will play - there's nothing wrong with his hands.

But I suppose we'll have to issue officer quality rations to him for his trouble.